


Love Is A Human Right

by Conscious_ramblings



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Politics, Anal Sex, Angst, Arguing, Daddy Kink, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Fingering, Fluff and Angst, Homophobic Language, M/M, Rimming, Slow Burn, a lot of LGBTQ politics, and niall is there, closeting, ex lovers to friends to lovers, side Ziam, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-25 19:29:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 40,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4973344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conscious_ramblings/pseuds/Conscious_ramblings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Louis has spent years getting over his ex, Harry Styles, and was almost successful. That is until Harry is elected as an MP, and Louis is given the task of getting him to support an Act of Parliament. </p><p>Through tears and arguments and a heavy dose of LGBTQ+ politics, their lives finally line up. Will Louis be able to forgive? Will they still want the same thing? It's difficult to let go of five years of hurt, but even more difficult to be close to the love of your life and let them walk away again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Is A Human Right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [juliusschmidt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliusschmidt/gifts).



> This fic deals a lot with British politics, but I have twisted continuity from actual politics somewhat. I'm also told it's very British at times and a few things might not make sense to non-brits. So to explain the continuity and to explain those terms I have made a post on my tumblr [here](http://conscious--ramblings.tumblr.com/LIAHR). Please feel free to refer to it if something doesn't seem like a word you know.
> 
> Huge thanks to [Layne](http://laynefaire.tumblr.com) who has beta'd this. Love you always. When I first told Layne I was writing this I said I thought it might be 15k long... it ran away from me (and developed into a better story) but I apologise for having to beta all 40k of my nonsense. As always any remaining errors are all down to me
> 
> Also thanks to [junebronte](http://junebronte.tumblr.com) who has read over it to help me in many ways, to [Sarah](http://sarahprocrastinates.tumblr.com) for chatting politics with me and being directly responsible for one Nick scene, [Clare](http://bearmustard.tumblr.com) and [Alice](http://intenselouis.tumblr.com) for reading some of the smut for me, and to all of the people I have annoyed going on about it over the past month or so.
> 
> I hope you like it juliusschmidt, I went with the second prompt, and have played with it slightly so apologies if it veers away from what you expected. I have also tried to throw in some road trip description at one point to give you a taste of your third prompt. Thank you for the inspiration, and letting me play in the world you thought up.
> 
> The prompt is at the end for anyone who is interested. This was a pinch hit so I didn't have time to include every scene I thought of. There may one day be codas.
> 
> Oh and the title is Amnesty International's slogan for promoting equal marriage. I went back and forth on titles and then realised the stickers I have all over my writers notebook, that they gave me at pride, were staring me in the face.

It was just gone four in the morning. The polls had closed at ten; his fourth mug of instant coffee cooled on the table beside him. The overflowing ashtray held 12 cigarette butts. The springs from the beat up old sofa they had found in a charity shop pushed into the base of his spine. Rain hammered on the window of the small room. On the TV, Huw Stephens attempted to fill the spaces between declarations of results with speculation about the accuracy of opinion polls, the inane chatter nothing more than white noise plucking the edges of the watcher’s consciousness. It wasn’t the most auspicious set up to his life being changed irrevocably, but then again, real life never was quite like the movies.

The scene on the telly changed to a sports hall somewhere in Manchester, six men and two women standing on a makeshift stage, while exhausted activists tried to look excited in the audience. One of the men addressed the crowd, going through the motions of the declaration of results, each constituency sounding the same by now apart from the accents. The watcher’s  attention wandered, drifting back to the campaign they'd just fought, anticipating the coming week’s activities that hinged on the night’s results, focusing anywhere but on the screen in front of him. Until, without prelude, a name snagged his wayward thoughts like a fish hook, dragging him back into the room and the results booming from the telly.

“Harry Styles of the Labour Party, 23,265 votes”

An eruption of cheering obscured the voice. The voice that was now pleading for silence, unable to continue with the call until the cheering had calmed down.

“With a majority of 5,342 Harry Styles is duly elected Member of Parliament for Salford and Eccles”

The cheering cut short, the feed returning to Broadcasting House, where Huw resumed his discussion of opinion polls, barely acknowledging that yet another Manchester constituency had remained in Labour hands. It was hardly news, apparently. No one else seemed to realise that the world, at least for one man, had just stopped turning on it’s axis.

\---

By 3pm on Friday the results  were  finally declared and approved by the Queen. The Tory leader had conceded defeat at 11am despite the fact the Labour victory had been clear from the early hours.

It didn’t really matter, of course. None of the work he’d  accomplished whilst campaigning for the past few months seemed to matter. The world had stopped spinning at just gone four am. He could concentrate on nothing but green eyes and wild curls, on shared kisses and first love, on heartbreak that’d lead to bedsits and lonely nights, on how his past and his present had just collided quietly in the early hours of the first Thursday in May.

\---

**Maiden Speech from Britain’s youngest MP causes ruckus in Commons.**

The headline screamed at him from every copy of the metro that had been left strewed about the almost empty tube carriage. The curls that haunted his night in dreams and his days in the corridors of Westminster taunted him from accompanying pictures. He’d successfully avoided Harry thus far, ducking into alcoves and down corridors whenever he caught a glimpse of his ex. He’d been in the Commons yesterday, of course. Unable to stay away from watching the maiden speech, he’d tucked himself into the darkest corner of the public gallery, certain no one had noticed him in the packed room. Not that anyone would care. As a Labour party researcher and activist, of course he’d attend the speeches of their new MPs.  

Harry had talked eloquently in his slow, deep drawl about unemployment and social housing, about the high NEET population in Manchester and how it was echoed across the country, about the stresses that faced mixed constituencies such as his, about immigration and crime. He hadn’t touched on the thing Louis’ heart was crying for him to talk about,though. No matter how many times Louis silently begged him to have changed, to have seen the light, to have offered him even a tiny glimmer of hope, none was forthcoming.

The speech had been well received, the chamber laughing along with Harry where appropriate, nodding and cheering when he made a particularly pertinent point. The papers were discussing his political potential, just how quickly would he manage to make it into the cabinet? Louis knew he was brilliant, had always known he was brilliant. If only Harry had seen it, hadn’t taken the coward’s way out. Louis sighed. It’d worked out well for Harry, the choice he’d made all those years ago. Less well for Louis, but that was to be expected. He had always known Harry’s star would shine far brighter than his own, that he’d remain in the shadows while Harry would be front and centre.

\---

Early September found Parliament back in session for just a few short weeks before conference season, and found Louis on the terrace grasping a cup of tea between his hands. Unseasonably cold, even for London, the wind blew off the grey expanse of the Thames to cut through him like a knife. Normally he’d be in Labour HQ, or at least in one of the less exposed to the elements drinking dens of Westminster, but he was meeting one of their new MPs to discuss a act and  the man still seemed to be excited by the prospect of tea on the famous terrace.

“Tomlinson?” A broad Bradford accent called his name over the wind, most of the sound travelling straight out into the river. Louis pasted on a smile and turned.

“Mr. Malik?” He held out his hand, trying to ignore high cheekbones and dark eyes that seemed to bore into his soul. “Thanks for taking the time to meet, I know you must be busy.”

“Nah mate, more overwhelmed than busy I reckon.” The dark eyes that had seemed so intimidatingly beautiful crinkled up into a wide grin, and  Louis felt a knot in his stomach begin to loosen. “Honestly feels like we’ve been on recess more than we’ve been here so far, cushy gig if I didn’t have so many things to try and get done back up North.”

Louis’ laugh caught even him off guard, a sudden bark that made the man still shaking his hand smile even wider.

“Also,” the man continued, “please call me Zayn, Mr. Malik still sounds like my dad no matter how many times I get called the Right Honourable Mr. Malik in this place.”

“And I’m Louis, it’s a pleasure to...” Louis’ words drifted off, the sight of coffee coloured curls and a flash of green heading towards them, distracting him from over Zayn’s shoulder.

“Zayn!” Before Louis could react to the shout, make an excuse and leave, Zayn spun round and waved Harry over to where they were standing. Louis had done so well at avoiding him so far, just his luck that Harry and Zayn seemed to be friends. At least Louis’ hair looked ok today, silver linings and all that.

“Haz,” Zayn clapped him on the back, pulling him into the conversation. “This is Louis Tomlinson, works for the equalities Minister, we’re just grabbing tea and having a chat, want to join?”

“Louis and I go way back actually.” Harry grinned  over at him, like it hadn’t been more than five years since they last saw each other, like Louis hadn’t been left sobbing in a ball at that last meeting, like he hadn’t been in that same position a million times since.

“We went to Bristol together, were both involved in the union there. It’s been a while, eh Louis?” Harry continued talking, explaining to Zayn how they knew each other, reducing it to friends who’d been involved in uni politics together. If Louis hadn’t spent four entire years of his life devoted to every nuance of Harry’s body language he’d have missed the undercurrent of tension that coloured Harry’s voice, that set his shoulders just so, that betrayed how awkward the situation was for him, too.

“Mmm, yeah, about five years I’d say? Good to see you mate.” Louis had dredged up every ounce of his GCSE acting skills, but still felt like he fell about five miles short of portraying a convincing facsimile of indifference. Zayn seemed to buy it, but a definite sadness lurked in the green depths of Harry’s eyes. Not that Louis was staring, or anything.

“I, umm, I have to be somewhere, but good to see you again Lou. Zayn, I’ll see you tonight?” Harry looked flustered. Louis counted it a win that he could still have some effect on the younger man. Before Louis could reply, to acknowledge the casual use of a nickname that cut right to his  soul, Harry quickly turned and headed back in the direction of the terrace doors, the bounce of retreating curls and just the faintest hint of a scent Louis once knew better than his own the only lingering evidence of his presence.

“Sorry. He’s not normally that abrupt. But then again, I guess you’d know that, being old friends and what not.” Zayn looked confused, a look that sat strangely on his previously placid features. Louis didn’t know what Harry was like, not anymore. It had been a long time since he could claim to know Harry, but he just smiled and nodded and hoped that the tsunami of hurt and confusion that scoured his soul bare remained invisible on the outside.

“That’s ok.” Louis shook his head slightly, focusing back on the topic they’d met to discuss.

“Thanks for meeting me, I’ve been assigned the job of getting the new younger MPs on board with this act, so I appreciate having some time to speak with you before the conference.”

“Yeah man, gay marriage, important stuff. Not sure how my constituents will feel about it, to be honest with you. It’s an interesting mix I’ve got, what with progressive modernists and old guard divided on the issues but I’ll see what’s said at my surgeries and report back.” Zayn rubbed a finger under his left eye as he spoke, looking highly uncomfortable.

Louis got it, he really did. It was a controversial topic, one the country remained torn on, despite civil partnerships having been legal for some time. Zayn represented Bradford West, an area  polling as most likely to vote no if a referendum was to be brought to ballot. There wouldn’t be a referendum though. It was a free vote in parliament, no party whip to guide MPs in what was touted as a vote of conscience. That was why Louis was fighting so hard to get the young MPs on board, they needed all the support they could get against the old fogeys who would vote no even though leadership were all for it.

With conference coming up in about four weeks Louis was running around like a blue-arsed fly, trying his damnedest to clarify who would be ready to show support when it was tabled as a motion to go on Labour’s policy aims for the year ahead. Liam had the better job with his work on education, way less controversy involved in continuing to try to fix the damage to the national curriculum that the last Tory government had done, but Louis still loved it. This was a topic he was passionate about, even if the only person he had personally ever envisioned marrying had just spoken to him for the first time in five years and had downgraded their four year relationship from lovers to casual acquaintances.

Zayn and Louis sat in companionable silence, sipping their tea while they watched boats go up and down the Thames. It was a surprise. Louis didn’t normally feel comfortable with the MPs he worked for. A lot of them were prats, in his opinion, all of them were, if you asked him when he was drunk. Zayn seemed okay, though, based on the very short conversation today and the few emails they’d exchanged in the past.

“Listen.” Zayn crushed his paper tea cup and lobbed it at the nearest bin while he talked, high-fiving Louis when it went in. “I’m gonna read over the stuff you sent again, and then I’ll present it to some of my constituents, as I said. The local party, too. I agree with what you’re doing, don’t get me wrong, and leadership are behind it so it’s less like I’m sticking my neck on the line, but ...  I can’t promise anything just yet, okay?”

“Mate, that is literally all I am asking for at this point. The party just wants some people on board pre-conference, and you seemed a good shout being young and a renowned lefty.” Louis winked conspiratorially at Zayn., During the run up to the elections, one of his opponents smear campaigns had played on how dangerously left wing Zayn’s politics were. He’d even been accused of being Old Labour at a time where that was akin to a dirty word. Zayn had taken it in his stride, saying that if standing up for the best interests of all his constituents, not just the rich ones, made him left wing,  then he’d happily wear the label. The papers had lapped it up.

“Cool man. Hey, let’s grab a few pints at conference, yeah? It’s always so boring. Although I guess now I’m actually an MP it might be better, but a friendly face and a few drinks would be good.” Zayn looked so earnest, Louis didn’t have it in him to say no. Conference usually involved drinking with Liam and Niall and the other party workers, but he’d spare a few hours for Zayn.

“Sounds good, see you in Blackpool then, if I don’t see you ‘round Whitehall.” Louis drained the last dregs of his tea, throwing it into the same bin Zayn had had success with, groaning when he failed.

Louis stayed on the terrace for a while after they parted, trying to get his head around seeing Harry again, around the fact he seemed to have managed to befriend Harry’s MP BFF and how awkward that might be. He hadn’t really thought about it when agreeing to Blackpool, numbed from seeing Harry again, but now his brain whirled. Increasingly outlandish thoughts rushed through his mind, new and ever more torturous scenarios  in which drinks with Zayn is merely a prelude to fights, reconciliations, blow jobs, kisses, cuddles, etc.  - pretty much any type of interaction at all, really - with the man he professed he wanted nothing to do with.

Liam would love this. Since the election, when Liam had arrived home still drunk three days later, Louis had done very little but talk about how much he hated Harry and how much Harry could rot in hell for all he cared. Liam, being Liam, was one hundred percent on Louis’ side. But then again, he hadn’t actually met Harry, hadn’t known them together, as Louis had met him in the intervening dark years. It was no wonder Liam hated Harry on his behalf. Liam had spent so many nights drinking Louis’ woes away with him, woes that usually wore curly hair and skinny jeans.

\---

Liam had been approximately ten times less impressed than even Louis had predicted. After grousing for about a quarter of an hour,he’d finally accepted that this wasn’t actually Louis or Harry’s faults, and that it just is what it is. They fell into a tacit agreement to not discuss the curly haired issue in Louis’ life, and Louis had managed to fall back into ignoring Harry by hiding out in his Whitehall office whenever possible. The extra effort made pretending that it wasn’t an issue he would need to confront soon much easier to avoid.

Louis had perfected lying to himself as a defence mechanism. It was a skill he’d developed after years of telling himself he was fine after Harry left, despite all evidence to the contrary. Harry sat high on his bosses’ list of targets to have onside at the conference, and there was no way Louis could explain exactly how he knew that support wouldn’t pan out without outing both Harry and his own past. So long as he continued justifying his decision, Louis could also avoid talking to Harry about the equal marriage vote - until it became apparent he couldn’t anymore.  

Maybe Harry had changed. Maybe Louis was wrong about him, holding on to old hurts and slights where there should be happy memories and lingering friendly affection. Louis could’ve almost believed that lie, if it hadn’t been for the fact that since Harry had been elected, Louis had poured over every inch of media coverage about him. Not once had anyone alluded to the fact Harry might be anything other than utterly straight. The effort might even be considered impressive if Harry having thoroughly erased him from his past for the sake of political advancement didn’t hurt quite so much.

They’d met early on at university, Louis studying PPE, while Harry studied straight economics. Ending up in the same tutorial group for first year economics, they’d discovered they had similar friends in halls, and after a few nights out drinking had ended up in bed together only a month into the first term. It hadn’t been in either of their plans for uni, ending up in a relationship so quick. They’d both come from small towns where, as Harry put it, they’d been the only gay in the village. This’d been their chance to get out and play the field, but fate had other plans. Both politically minded, it had been natural for them both to drift toward the student union. Harry had ended up SU president between his second and third years, with Louis as officer for equality and access. That had been the first time Louis had noticed that Harry didn’t want his sexuality linked to his political aspirations. He refused to allow any mention of being gay as part of his campaign, and asked Louis (very nicely of course) if they could keep the fact they were together on the down low. He sold it to Louis as looking bad if the president was shagging one of his full-time officers, which made intellectual sense, or would have done if Harry hadn’t continued to hide their relationship after they both left office for their final year.

Don’t get Louis wrong, Harry had been the best boyfriend in the world, Louis wouldn’t still be hung up on him all these years later if that hadn’t been the case. Not that Louis would admit out loud that he was still hung up on Harry Styles, but still. Harry had been sweet, loving, attentive, and looked at Louis like he had hung the moon and the stars. They’d been deeply in love, had lived together since they moved out of halls, and even talked about getting married. Unfortunately, their relationship had remained something only their inner circle knew about.

Harry came from a political dynasty, if such things could be said to exist in the Labour party. His great- great- great- something grandfather had been a prime minister under Victoria’s reign for the Liberals, and since then it had been an expectation that sons would attend first Eton, then Cambridge, and would, of course, eventually be elected to Parliament.

Harry had already broken the rules several times over. He’d begged his mother to not send him to boarding school as a child, and Julie had never been able to say no to her only child. Harry had attended a private school near his home, much to his father’s chagrin. To add insult to injury, at least in his father’s eyes, he had then not only attended Bristol rather than Cambridge, but had also come out as gay. The least he could do, according to his father, was not act upon his ‘sexual choices’,thus avoiding future scandals when he inevitably stood as an MP. Harry had disappointed him yet further by falling in love, but had at least managed to do one thing right and keep that love a secret.

Louis had obviously tried to persuade Harry that times were changing, pointing to ‘out’ MPs who had no trouble being re-elected. But those MPs had come out after they had proven themselves to their constituents, and it wasn’t a risk that Harry or his father were willing to take. There had been so many late night tearful conversations about it, where Harry would confess that he agreed with Louis in every way, but that he was too scared to act on it. Like Louis, Harry was so proud of who he was, and it broke Louis’ heart regularly to see him have to pretend to be someone he was not. Sadly, it was the way things were and nothing they could whisper, scream or sob to each other in the waning hours of the day could change that.

Harry had begged for them to stay together but stay a secret, and Louis had been so close to agreeing. Harry was the love of his life and he knew he was utterly ruined for anyone else no matter what happened. In the end though it was too painful to be in public with Harry and not be able to show the love that thrummed through every inch of his body. And so eventually it had come to a head just after they graduated. It had started like it always did, Louis begging Harry to be open and Harry begging Louis to understand, but instead of ending in reassurance that their love was greater than the circumstances, something had broken in them both. It had ended with Louis begging Harry to stay and Harry begging Louis to one day forgive him, please god one day forgive him.

While Louis was very good at hiding from the situation, it didn’t stop the situation from existing, which was why he had found himself in a bar near their offices, hiding in a booth at the back with his head down, hoping to a god he didn’t believe in that Harry wouldn’t notice him. The pint glass in front of him was almost empty and he was swallowing the last dregs of his beer past a noticeable lump in his throat. He tried so hard to not reminisce over Harry in public, especially not when the man himself was right there, but that in itself was the source of the problem. Harry was _right there_.

“Louis?” Bugger, fuck, shit and fuck again. Louis turned in the direction of the voice, sighing in relief to find Zayn and not the man who he had been close to crying over for the past ten minutes.

“Mate, good to see you.” Louis hoped that his voice didn’t betray his emotions, but was sure it was at least an octave too high. Hopefully the fact this was only their second conversation, and the fact the bar was noisy and crowded, would work in his favour.

“How are you, man? S’cool to catch you outside of Westminster, you know?” Zayn slipped into the booth across from Louis, pint in his hand and warm smile on his face. Louis was being tested, he was sure of it. The one person in all of Westminster that he wanted to avoid, and he had somehow befriended his friend. He nodded mutely in reply, unable to trust his voice when his throat closed even further.

Louis was saved yet more embarrassment by the return of Liam from the bar, holding two blessed pints. Louis grabbed one and held on to it like it was a life ring, the only thing that could keep him afloat through his internal storm. He waved his hands between the two other men at the table, muttering names and jobs and hoping they could manage the rest.

Grabbing a packet of tobacco from his bag, he headed  outside for a smoke, hoping that the cool air would clear his head. When he finally slumped against a wall, he found his fingers were shaking too much to roll, tobacco and filter both falling uselessly to the ground in front of him . It had been a long time since Harry had affected him this much, not even in the week since they’d  seen each other. He wasn’t quite sure what had brought it on, either. Maybe it was exhaustion from work, maybe the sad looks Liam had been giving him had finally become too much. Maybe he’d just finally allowed himself the time to think about it. Maybe, just maybe, it was his brain subconsciously making sense of the scent that drifted towards him on the wind, accompanying the  man who’d just stepped out of the bar - a scent that was morning kisses and nighttime spooning, that was winters bundled up together, and summers spent naked in a sweaty bed, a scent that encompassed  the past and the future, and, despite everything that had occurred, remained the only thing he needed. The scent of home. _Harry_.

Louis cringed back into the shadows, crushing out the cigarette he had finally managed to roll in a delayed bid to be stealthy. Every fibre of his being thrummed, finely attuned to the man who turned toward him.

“Louis? Is that you?” The tentative voice wavered, but Louis would recognise it anywhere. He choked on thin air. “Louis, I... can we talk?”

Louis snapped at the words. Such a small request after years of silence, really but too much all the same.

“I highly doubt we have anything worth saying to each other, Harry.” Louis’ voice was more collected than he’d expected, almost managing to fool even himself into thinking he could cope.

He pushed off the wall and past Harry, not letting their eyes meet as he stalked back inside the bar and towards his blessed pint. When he reached the table, he discovered Liam and Zayn getting on like a house on fire, laughing and chatting away like old friends. As Louis pushed back into the booth, Liam looked at him with concern shining from his face; a look Louis was quite sick of seeing lately.

“Lou, are you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Liam’s voice was soft and quiet, pitched for Louis’ ears only, but Louis’ answering laugh was loud and brash and called the attention of everyone nearby.

“You know, Li, I think I just did.” Louis replied with a wry chuckle. He’d just turned his attention  back to his pint when his ghost decided to haunt him again.

“Zee? Sorry to interrupt, but umm... Oh. Hi Louis.” Harry’s voice broke pitifully when he realised who his friend was sat with. Louis’ heart broke again along with it, cracking painfully along scars that had never healed properly.

“Haz!” Zayn cheered, oblivious to the mood of the table. Liam’s eyes grew to the size of saucers, glancing  between Louis and Harry once he realised exactly what was going on.

“Sorry, sorry.” Harry’s eyes were wild. “I think I’m going to just head off, Zee.”

Zayn was having none of that, of course, protesting loudly that Harry should join them and dragging him into the booth to introduce him to a shocked Liam. Louis wasn’t sure what to do, but knew he couldn’t cause a scene, not here where so many of their colleagues filled the small bar. Instead, he caught his flatmate’s eye, mouthing a silent ‘ _it’s ok_ ’ across the booth.

The remainder of the evening was fraught with tension. Louis nursed his pint, Liam strove to be polite to Harry in light of his interest in Zayn, Harry struggled to make excuses to leave every few minutes, and Zayn held  it all together like very oblivious glue. After enough time had passed to be polite, Louis slipped silently out of the booth and headed in the direction of the loo, quickly turning once he was out of sight to slip  out of the bar and escape into the cool night air.

Liam found him at home an hour or so later, ten cigarette butts in the ashtray and a half-finished bottle of Jack dangling loosely in his hand.

\---

Thankfully, Louis could avoid Harry for the most part over the next few weeks before Parliament broke up again for the party conferences. There was pressure over the proposed marriage law, of course, but Louis had enough MPs onside that his failure to secure Harry’s support slipped under the radar.

Liam and Zayn had miraculously managed to hit it off on the most awkward night of Louis’ life, and had since gone for what Louis was certain was a date, but Liam brushed off as two friends being friendly. The fact Zayn had taken Liam for dinner away from any of the normal Westminster haunts, and (Louis had checked) had not taken the receipt at the end of the night for expenses purposes, made it all seem date-like to Louis. The added cherry on top of the “Liam had a date with Mr Beautiful MP” cake? They’d apparently ended up wandering along the embankment for a good hour after dinner, not something Louis ever did with his totally platonic laddy bro-pals.

Liam countered all of Louis’ arguments with the fact he had no idea if Zayn was queer, had only talked about a female ex in passing. Also, if anyone would have knowledge of an MP’s sexuality it should be Louis, that being his job and whatnot. Louis, of course, countered that with the fact Harry was as gay as maypole dancing and yet no one in the party knew. It wasn’t an argument either of them ever won.

It did mean, however, that Louis’ agreement to drinks with Zayn in Blackpool had necessarily expanded to include Liam, and Niall had invited himself along too. Niall had somehow ended up working for the Scottish Labour party, and as such had been based in Edinburgh since before the referendum. While the independence vote had been the scope and remit of his job initially, after it was over he had been persuaded to stay. Everyone loved Niall -he was easy to love - but his job had become significantly harder when the National Party had utterly collapsed at the general election. They’d gone from at one time ruling Scotland, to having one seat remaining. Obviously they still had a presence in the Scottish parliament at Holyrood, but everything was apparently like an episode of the Thick of It up there, Glaswegian accents and all. For that reason, Niall insisted it was Liam and Louis’ duty, as his best friends, to get him pissed every evening of the conference,  more frequently if time allowed.

Liam had come home the other night with his best puppy dog eyes and Louis had just known it couldn’t end well. He’d been right. It ended with an invitation being extended to Harry, of all people, to join them for drinks. Apparently Harry and Zayn were flatmates when in London, and had opted to share a room at conference in an effort to  cut down on the expenses they charged the taxpayer (commendable really). Zayn insisted he couldn’t leave Harry out, and Liam so badly wanted to see Zayn that Louis had acquiesced.

So now, as Parliament prepared to close for two weeks, Louis faced the prospect of drinks with Harry Styles in Blackpool. It was all he could think of while he sat at his desk, smoking the one cigarette he allowed himself at lunch, shuffling  papers around and making calls to his mum in an effort to look like he was working. His focus was utterly shot, and he eventually ended up leaving early, walking halfway to Richmond along the Thames, needing the illusion of openness that the stretch of water provided. The leaves had begun their shift from green to yellow, just a subtle hint that autumn loomed closer, chasing summer away like the clouds skidding across the blue sky above him.

\---

Only two days until Louis would leave for Blackpool, with conference starting properly in four. Work remained overwhelming and all consuming, yet he still managed to find time to worry about how to spend time with Harry. Sitting alone at one in the morning, a glass of wine in one hand and a menthol cigarette in the other, he couldn’t shake the image of curls and dimples and green fucking eyes from his mind. He was half-tempted to schedule a date with one of the other activists or unionists while in Blackpool,if for no other reason to give the illusion that he hadn’t been pining for Harry over the past five years. The point was moot, though. He _had_ been pining. There had been dates, there had been a few one night stands. There had even been a tinder profile when Liam had decided Louis needed to get out more - but there hadn’t been love. Even Louis could admit that. It’s hard to move on when you split up because of circumstances, not because either of you stopped loving the other. Louis felt certain Harry had probably stopped loving him by now, though. It was to be expected, really, since Harry had been the one to finally leave.

Louis had declared that he hated Harry (and perhaps on some level he did). In the small hours of the morning, in the quiet moments when left alone with only his thoughts for company, in the simple routine of his day, in the rhythmic white noise of a tube carriage, in all of those stolen seconds to himself, he still loved Harry down to the very marrow of his bones. Harry existed  within his DNA. He influenced the person Louis had been, the one he’d become, and the one he wanted to be. He had filled the empty spaces Louis hadn’t known existed - until he was no longer there.

Now that Harry had waltzed back into Louis’ life, the feelings overwhelmed Louis at times.  While Louis had always known, intellectually, that their lives would probably cross at some point in politics, he hadn’t really ever prepared for it. None of his new friends, apart from Liam, and Niall to some extent, knew about his past. Louis wasn’t a bad person, and knowing that Harry wanted to remain closeted meant that he had very carefully never spoken in detail about his ex. It made explaining his current funk very difficult, but he remained loyal and supportive of Harry until the day he died, even if he didn’t agree with Harry’s choices.

Now, as he haphazardly threw clothes into a holdall to take up north, he contemplated the fact that he’d probably have to actually talk to Harry soon. They couldn’t continue to dance around the other, not if Louis didn’t want the next five years of his life to be hell on earth, and especially not if Liam and Zayn were becoming friends and possibly more. He couldn’t be friends with Harry, if he was honest with himself, but he hoped they could come to the point where they could be civil with each other.

Zipping up his bag, he stubbed out his cigarette and opened a window to dissipate the smell. The breeze crossing the sash carried a chill, one that spoke of shorter nights, bonfires, and fancy drinks from Starbucks that were far too sweet and far too far away from actual coffee to be drinkable. But there was something else there too. A crispness that spoke of endings and, once winter had passed, the anticipation of hopeful new beginnings once winter had passed. Louis grabbed hold of that hope, as he shucked on a pair of trackies and a t-shirt and curled under his duvet.

\---

The train ride to Blackpool was long, with a half hour change at Preston. While Louis waited for Liam to return with drinks, he idly wondered whether anyone actually lived in Preston. It had always been one of those places he only ever passed through or changed trains at. He had never actually left the station, content to hang about on busy platforms and listen to distorted train announcements. It felt important somehow, to understand if this place truly existed, or if it was just a crossroads like Louis’ life had been of late.

With fifteen minutes to spare before their train was scheduled to leave Liam returned, handing him a white americano that tasted more like Nescafe gold blend. Louis sipped the warm liquid thankfully, before dropping his bag with Liam and declaring that he’d be right back. Taking the stairs to the ticket hall two at a time, he finally burst onto the taxi rank at the front. A misty drizzle filled the sky, making it hazy and hard to see, but it offered Louis reassurance that crossroads were real places too.

A main road stretched in front of him, bridging over the train tracks, with a shopping centre off to his right. People buzzed past under umbrellas, heads down and purpose in their steps. A bus drove past recklessly fast, splashing a puddle of water onto an unsuspecting group of school children. Louis felt his heartbeat slow into a rhythm that matched the life around him.

Despite the precarious balance his own life teetered on, it relaxed him to know that this place did exist. A certain calm settled over him  to see that life went on, no matter where you were. Just before he turned to head back into the station he saw a young couple walk past, hand in hand, faces turned towards each other like the others’ eyes were more important even than looking where they were going. He had been there once, long ago on his journey. Maybe it was time to finally get closure and move on.

\---

The remaining trip from Preston passed quickly, rain splattering on the windows while Liam and Louis shared a limp sandwich and a couple of cans of Tennants. The rain greeted their arrival in Blackpool, leaving the two of them bundled together under an umbrella whilst they tried to hail a cab to get to their B&B. They weren’t high enough up the political ladder to stay in one of the hotels that were booked solid for the conference with journalists and MPs, but at least they could expense their trip, which was not always a given.

The bed and breakfast sat  a few streets back from the front and Louis swore he could taste the salt in the air as they drove closer. A woman in her fifties greeted them at the door, ushering them in out of the rain with promises of tea and biscuits once they’d dumped their bags in their rooms. She introduced herself as Mrs Parsons but asked them to call her Norah, and won Louis over for life when the tea she offered was Yorkshire. Liam’s deep blush at her admonishment of  ‘no overnight guests’ endeared her to Louis even more.

After tea and custard creams, they headed over to the conference HQ to help set up their respective areas. Louis heard him way before he saw him, Irish accent tainted just the tiniest bit with Scottish inflection from all the months spent on the campaign trail.

“Louis William Tomlinson, get your arse over here and hug me before I tell your mother you got yet another tattoo!” Louis couldn’t help laughing while darting over to his best friend and enveloping him in a hug. Just the sheer act of having Niall’s arms around him caused the tension in his shoulders to dissipate.

“How are you, Ni?” He laughed into the blonde boy’s shoulder, Niall refusing to let him go from the bear hug he’d wrapped Louis up in. “Good trip down?”

“Yeah yeah, great, thanks Mum.” Niall mocked gently, finally letting go of Louis and smacking kisses onto his cheeks instead. “But seriously mate, it was a train journey, same as all the other ones. I’m more interested in seeing you and Li for the first time in fucking months.”

“Pub?” Louis laughed, getting an answer of ‘pub’ in reply from the Irishman.

After finding Liam, the three of them headed arm in arm to the nearest pub, one they knew in a day or so would be filled to the brim with networking journalists and politicians. Tonight was the calm before the storm, and they secured a table with no problems. After a few pints spent  catching up on each other’s gossip, and that of their shared friends, they were happily merry, Louis feeling free and loose for the first time since he had heard Harry’s name on the election broadcast. The power of good friendship.

The next day brought another whirlwind of preparation, of last minute meetings with MPs and journalists to try and create a narrative where the party was united even if that wasn’t totally true behind the scenes. The amount of work distracted him from both his hangover and from the impending sense of doom that lingered in the back of his mind over drinks with Harry. The fact he hadn’t told Niall about the situation hovered around in his mind when he had a spare moment, too. He wasn’t sure exactly what he could say to Niall; ‘ _I know we’ve been best mates for years but remember that ex I refused to talk about? Yeah he’s here and he’s an MP and oh, yeah I’m still arse over tit for him. Oh, and guess what? We’re all going for drinks with him cause Liam fancies this other MP that I somehow agreed to catch up with, and he’s best mates with the ex. Isn’t life just wonderful? Oh, and Liam knew about all of it but I didn’t tell you. Please don’t kill me_.’

Niall would, undoubtedly, kill him. It had just seemed easier to not fill Niall in years ago, Liam only knew due to dealing with Louis crying when drunk, and now it felt like they’d been friends too long to finally enlighten him. Like Louis had been lying somehow whereas it was actually more a case of he had been trying to move on. Now, with Harry here, it was too much, too hard to get the words to come out of his mouth.

\---

By the time Louis finally escaped to the pub that evening, it was packed full of people for the conference starting the next day and he had to elbow his way to the bar. The first sip of beer went down like nectar, soothing his tattered nerves and exhausted muscles. He was shattered and could barely cope with all the people around him, but Liam’s voice shouting to him across the room offered a beacon of hope. Or, at least it did until he turned in the direction of it and saw those damn curls. Instead of heading straight over he downed his pint, ordering another to give himself both enough time and dutch courage to gather himself to face Harry.

All four boys were sat round a small table, with an extra chair being jealously guarded by Liam for Louis. He slung himself down onto it, ending up with his thigh pressed against Harry’s in the crowded space. They both moved awkwardly in their chairs, the attempt to put even a centimetre of space between them a losing battle. The warmth of Harry’s skin seeped through the two layers of material separating them and Louis felt like he was on fire.

“Louis!” Niall seemed about three sheets to the wind already, happily cradling his pint with five empty glasses on the table in front of them. Louis sincerely hoped they weren’t all his. “Where have you been?” He drew out the vowels on the final word in a whine, and even in Louis’ current state he could feel his lips quirking in a grin.

“Working, mate. Not all of us can be here just on our jollies you know.” Niall grinned back in response, settling back in his chair and spreading his legs as wide as he could.

“I’ve earned it, man. Those bloody jocks have been working me to the bone, I’ve hardly had a day off all year.” And, Louis could appreciate that sentiment, with the run up to the election and the aftermath having him feeling very similar, so he raised his pint towards his best mate.

“Cheers to that Nialler, cheers to that.” Before he knew it all five men were tapping their pints together before knocking them back. Zayn caught his eye as they clinked, curiosity in his gaze before he looked towards Liam and smiled warmly. Harry’s eyes remained resolutely anywhere but looking at Louis.

“So I hear you and Haz here went to uni together? Maybe he can finally fill me in on the mystery man who broke your heart back then, eh?” Niall was joking, an ongoing thing between the two of them, but Louis didn’t miss the small noise of pain that Harry made, couldn’t ignore the way his muscles all froze in reaction to Niall’s words. It felt like someone had wrapped Louis’ chest in chains, restricting his breathing and leaving him dizzy for a second.

“Niall, shush. It’s not fair on Lou.” Liam jumped to his rescue, of course, his voice pitched low but Louis knew Harry had picked up on it.

“Sorry man, sorry.” Niall looked genuinely distressed, so Louis shot him what he hoped was a reassuring smile but felt more like a grimace on his face.

Conversation resumed after that, mostly Zayn and Niall and Liam talking about mutual friends in the party, politics, and where they were all from. Louis couldn’t really focus on it all, though, not with Harry still so tense and quiet beside him, staring wordlessly into the bottom of his drink.

When Liam and Zayn went to the bar to order more drinks, Niall came to sit beside Louis, slinging his arm casually around his shoulders and whispering another apology in his ear before turning towards Harry.

“So Harry, no digging for secrets but what was this one like as a teenager? I’m imagining a lot of flamboyancy.” Louis dug his elbow into Niall’s side, but surprisingly Harry had a soft smile on his face.

“Oh yeah, he was very flamboyant to start with. I think you’d just come out before uni, right Lou?” Louis tried to pretend the nickname wasn’t like a knife, plastering a smile on and nodding gently in Harry’s direction.

“Mmmhmm. I wanted everyone to know about it and all.” Louis laughed, and it didn’t even feel forced.

“Niall, he used to wear these tight red trousers, stripy t-shirts and braces.” Harry’s eyes were wide with delight, seeming to revel in being given this opportunity to talk with Louis like they really were old friends.

“Braces?” Niall spluttered into the beer he had just sipped at, trying, and failing, not to choke it out of his nose as he suppressed a laugh. “Louis, really?”

“Hey, they looked damn good, made my arse look good enough to eat you always...” Louis’ voice trailed off as the implication of what he was remembering hit him. The light behind Harry’s eyes dimmed every so slightly, probably not enough for anyone but Louis to notice. Thankfully Niall appeared too busy wiping beer off his shirt to realise what had been said.

“So Louis,” Niall turned to him when he was done, arm still lying casually around Louis’ neck, “You got any hot fellas to take up the pleasure gardens this year?” He winked lasciviously while  Louis glared daggers at him, feeling Harry tense up again beside him.

“First of all Niall, it’s the Pleasure Beach, not gardens.”

“Yeah but lady gardens and all that... get it?” Niall jumped in, ignoring the haughty look Louis hoped he projected at his friend.

“Wrong gender love, us gays tend to go in less for garden-related innuendo.”

“Up the Blackpool tower then, I don’t care.” Niall interrupted, Louis raising an eyebrow and a single finger in his direction to indicate he needed to let Louis finish.

“Second of all,” he said pointedly, “tower is even worse. Come on Niall, a little imagination please. And third, No.” Louis really hoped that would be the end of it, but Niall continued to push, Zayn and Liam re-joining the group mid-conversation.

“Not even that Aiden fella from last year? His mum lives up here doesn’t she?” Niall mumbled.

“No. Especially not him. Bloody closet case, I’ve had enough of that in my life.” Louis froze when  he caught Harry’s face fall out of the corner of his eye. He really hadn’t meant it like that, but ... in for a penny, in for a pound.

“If a guy isn’t going to be out and proud in this day and age, then what’s the fucking point, Nialler? No self-respecting gay man would hate themselves that much. Not gonna drag myself back into the closet - not when I’ve worked so hard to improve gay rights for us all, not when we’re hopefully about to get gay marriage out of it.” Niall hummed in approval while Liam looked appalled at what Louis had just implied. Zayn looked murderous, and Harry, well Harry looked broken and it twisted something inside Louis that he hadn’t been expecting.

Louis grabbed his cigarette packet from the table, checking his back pocket for a lighter, and made his excuses. He needed a fag and he needed a break from the tension that had fallen on the table like a fog.

\---

“Stop being a cunt.” The words shocked Louis out of the bad mood he wallowed in, and he turned toward their source. Zayn stepped out onto the smoking terrace of the bar, anger written clearly across his features.

“Excuse me?” Louis arched an eyebrow as he replied, trying to project nonchalance where he felt none.

“You heard me,” Zayn sighed, but his body language still thrummed with anger, “Stop being a cunt. Harry doesn’t deserve this.”

“With all due respect, I don’t think you have a fucking clue what you’re talking about, mate.” There was anger at the forefront of Louis’ tone, but he could hear the fear shading in the background, could feel it in his stomach too. What exactly did Zayn think he knew?

“I’m not fucking stupid Louis. And neither’s he. I know he’s your ex. I know you’re the one he’s bloody cried over all those times when we’ve had one too many sambucas. He might be in the closet, but he’s not a fucking robot.” The anger in Zayn’s eyes deepened when Louis snorted  derisively in response.

“Look, Louis. I know you’re out and proud and all that, and good on you, but not every gay person can do that. It’s not safe for everyone, it’s not easy for everyone. Not everyone has that luxury. Harry made a choice, yeah? I get that upsets you, but it’s not as simple as you like to make out. If he, or I for that matter, was out then that’s all we’d be. The gay MP, the bi MP, defined by our fucking sexuality for the rest of our careers. Every vote would be scrutinised to see if it harboured some gay agenda. Every newspaper article would come with the proviso we like to fuck men tacked onto it. Every promotion would be tainted with the question of who we fucked to get there.”

Louis began to argue, knowing that there were out MPs, that things weren’t that bad for them.

“Chris Smith came out after a year, hell he even admitted to being HIV positive. He’s held office, Zayn, first openly gay man in the Cabinet. He’s a fucking Baron now.”

“Margaret Colquhoun, outed in office, lost her seat two years later.” Zayn countered.

“Stephen Twigg, out before he was even elected. Beat Michael fucking Portillo in the biggest upset of the election, for god’s sake” Louis spat back.

“Yeah, in 1997, the biggest swing to Labour imaginable. And we all saw how the papers tried to destroy him.”

“Angela Eagle had a civil partnership, Zayn. No one cared.”

“Are you fucking kidding, mate? Don’t argue with me on this. Yes I know some MPs have made it work. I can count all of them on less than my two hands. You know, though, that this situation is totally different. Harry’s  young, he’s from the political old guard, he’s got ambitions to be in cabinet. And yes, Chris made it there, but it took him ten years to be a shadow minister and over twenty to actually have any real power.”

Louis sagged against the wall behind him, eyes wide as he looked at Zayn, some sort of clarity and realisation dawning.

“You of all people should know that being in the closet doesn’t make you less as an LGBT person.” Zayn continued, clearly on a roll now, pausing only to flick a lighter at the end of his own cigarette. “Hate Harry all you want for breaking up with you, but don’t you fucking dare try to insinuate anything about his sexuality or how good of a gay man he is, ever again.”

The fight went out of Louis, a heavy weight settling in the pit of his stomach, one that felt scarily close to guilt, and a lump appeared in his throat that he tried to swallow past to speak.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry Zayn. I . . . fuck . . .  I’m a prick.” His head fell into his hands, body slumping down until he was sat on the floor, back still pressed against the brick wall of the bar.

“Fucking right you are.” There was a beat as Zayn drew heavily on his cigarette, holding the smoke for a second before he let it out with a sigh, his voice softening. “He is. too.”

Louis looked up at him quizzically, not expecting the add on. Zayn carefully folded himself to sit beside Louis, shoulders pressed together.

“Louis, he feels so bad, I know he does. He’s handling this almost as badly as you are, but Harry’s way of dealing is to retreat into himself and mentally beat himself up over every tiny thing you say. From what he’s said, he was an utter prick to you back then, but he cares. He  cares so much about you. Give him a chance, yeah?”

Louis’ response was a tiny nod, barely even noticeable in the deep shadows of the smoking area. He could at least try and let that anger go, his anger that Harry wasn’t out. It wouldn’t be easy, not with it being so tied up in why Harry had left, but at the end of the day, Zayn was right.

He got up and brushed dirt from his backside, then offered Zayn a hand up.

“Look, can you make my excuses for me? I need to get an early night and kinda want to be alone for a bit?” He was still holding Zayn’s hand, and he squeezed slightly, trying to press into the other man’s skin how bad he felt.

“Yeah man, that's cool. Look, I don’t want to fall out with you, think we could all be good mates in different circumstances, so I’ll see you around yeah? We should still grab that drink we planned tomorrow. Fresh start and that?” Zayn’s eyes were kinder than Louis felt he deserved. Louis let Zayn’s hand drop and pushed it through his own hair instead.

“Thanks, I’d like that.” Shockingly it felt like the truth.

\---

Louis didn’t get an early night. Instead he ended up sat on the beach, watching the waves roll in by the clear light of the moon. From behind him The Illuminations cast their garish glare into the water too, cars and buses of tourists driving down the front until late, just to catch a glimpse of the famous lights.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, roused only when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. An unsaved number but one he still knew like the back of his hand.

**I’m sorry for whatever Zayn said**

Harry being the peace-maker still, even after all this time. Louis thumbed in five different responses, deleting them all before he finally settled on wording that felt ok.

_I deserved it. I’m sorry for being a prick. It’s absolutely none of my business what you do or who you are out to_

**I’m still sorry though. And I’m sorry I’m putting you through this all over again**

Harry’s response came  quickly, and Louis didn’t want to leave him waiting, but he needed a minute to think. Pulling off his shoes and socks, he rolled up his jeans and ran down to where the water lapped at the shore. Down there, the light from the road barely touched him, only the moon and the offending phone in his hand illuminating his face. The cold water did the trick, clearing his head and letting him focus on something other than the vice around his heart.

_I can’t do this by text H. I do want to talk though. Soon_

The three dots indicating Harry typing appeared and disappeared so many times that Louis gave up and locked his phone, shoving it in his pocket until he put his socks and shoes back on. When he checked again, there was one notification.

**Thank you. That’s all I want**

When Louis finally curled in his too small single bed back at the B&B, those words were all he could see, tattooed behind his eyeballs, morphing into _you’re all I want_ as he fell asleep.

\---

The first day of conference passed in a blur of meetings and speeches, bad coffee and even worse sandwiches. Louis was shattered after fractured sleep and the renewed fracturing of his heart. It took everything he had to carry on and do his job. He met with Liam for lunch and discovered that Harry had left almost as soon as Louis had the night before. Liam turned on the puppy eyes that he knew Louis couldn’t resist and begged Louis to be nice tonight. While Liam still didn’t seem to believe that Zayn liked him (“He’s a greek god Louis, he wouldn’t want me, and he’s not even gay”) he was still insistent that they all be friends Louis supposed he could relate - if Liam couldn’t have Zayn, he’d rather be able to admire him from up close than pine away never knowing him even as a friend. As for the other, It wasn’t Louis’ place to fill him in on Zayn’s admission concerning his sexuality. Liam would need to fix his gaydar on his own.

Liam had apparently decided that Zayn would only concede to being their friend if Louis and Harry could at least manage to be civil to each other. Exhausted over it all, and having already agreed to try harder, Louis reassured Liam it would be fine. Then, he set about shoring up his  emotional walls for the evening ahead so that he could avoid a repeat of the previous night’s conversation. He didn’t _want_ to hurt Harry, he just lashed out emotionally and wasn’t sure how else to behave. He never had been very good at biting his tongue, and Harry had always managed to push the right - or in this case, wrong - buttons.

\---

The night in the pub went better than Louis could have ever anticipated. The easy camaraderie he’d felt with Zayn at their first meeting seemed to have returned after last night, and they spent the entire evening chatting, laughing, and smoking. They discovered a shared love of comic books, with Liam also gladly joining in on the conversation despite shooting a few warning glances at Louis. They received an eye roll in return, Louis not willing to afford them more legitimacy than that in response.

Harry sat quietly throughout the evening, sipping at his pint and chatting to Niall, Liam, Zayn at times. Louis felt the green eyes of his past rest on him at regular intervals throughout the night, and when he caught Harry staring he could have sworn a glint of jealousy drifted across his ex’s face. Not sure quite how to interpret that, he tucked it away to the back of his mind.

He ended up in the smoking area by himself at one point, when Zayn was in the loo. After a few peaceful minutes alone, he felt the presence of another person in the gathering darkness. Liam sidled up to him, slinging an arm drunkenly around Louis’ shoulders and snuggling into the side of his neck. Their closeness had been hard-fought and long established, Liam having been a typically uptight civil servant type when they’d first met. Louis had steadily chipped away at that exterior until he found the real Liam hidden deep within; one who wasn’t affected by years of bullying at school and could be himself, who wasn’t scared of his revelation that he might be not entirely straight. Louis had grabbed hold of that Liam and nurtured him, until eventually the old Liam barely came out to play. It was one of his greatest achievements in life.

“You don’t fancy Zayn, do ya Lou?” Liam muttered, drawing a bark of laughter from Louis.

“Honestly mate, not only would I never do that to you, but there is literally no space in my head for anyone but Harry right now.” Louis meant to add to his reassurance with a cuddle, but the squeak he heard from behind him sent him reeling in that direction instead.

Harry stood in the light of the doorway from the bar, a look of utter shock on his face. Well this was going to be fun.

“I’ll just...” Liam waved his hands uselessly, then shouldered past Harry and back into the bar, a worried glance directed at Louis as he left.

\---

“Louis. We need to talk. Now.” Harry pushed out of the door frame and closer to Louis across the darkness. His face was resolute and Louis didn’t know what to say. He had wanted this, had agreed to talk, but now that the time had come, he found himself  scared stiff and wanting to run.

“Look, Harry,” he began, needing to draw first blood if they were going into battle. “There's not much to say. You left. You stayed hidden. I broke. I fixed myself. You reappeared. It’s hard, but it’s nothing I can’t get through again. After all, you can’t change.”

Louis’s dig referred to the tattoo Harry had inked shortly before their split, etched onto his wrist where once there had been a wristband from the first festival they’d attended together. It had been a weekend away from friends or anyone who knew them, a weekend where they could be out and proud and together. Harry had worn the wristband until it disintegrated, telling Louis it was the most special time of his life so far. Then, after it fell off, he’d permanently marked himself with “I can’t change” which Louis interpreted as Harry being unwilling to change, unwilling to fight for them, for himself. It had been one of the final straws, Louis stepping out of the room he’d been in with a rope inked around his wrist, tying them together, and Harry had come out of the room opposite, refusing yet again to change.

“Maybe I have. Changed, I mean.” Harry’s voice sounded  small, unsure, completely lacking in the confidence and eloquence that had made him such a hot commodity as a young MP.

“Really, Harry? Because from where I’m standing nothing has changed. Zayn seems to be the only person around you to have even an inkling you’re anything but straight. The papers speculate on you dating any woman you even stand close to as the ‘most eligible bachelor in Westminster’ - and don’t you dare lie and tell me your team isn’t behind that. I’ve been working here longer than you. You can’t even support a fucking gay rights act for fear of accidentally opening yourself up to speculation that you might not like breasts. For fucks sake, Harry, nothing has changed.” Louis finished his rant with a choked off sob, having surprised himself with the pain that ripped through him at the words. It finally settled into his bones, the realisation that nothing had changed, and nothing ever would. Even after all these years,Louis continued chasing the ghost who broke his heart, a man who maybe never existed, but definitely didn’t anymore.

Harry stared at Louis, face unmoved through the whole rant, before his eyes fell to his left arm, and his right hand started to unbutton his shirt sleeve. He slowly and methodically rolled up the cuff before he held his arm out to Louis, angling it into the light spilling from the bar door. There, where once were the words that hurt Louis so much, was an anchor inked into the pale skin.

Louis stared, unable to move. Finally, he raised one finger and drew it across the mark where he knew the words had been. Harry flinched, pulling his arm away and quickly re buttoning his cuff, then cradling his arm protectively against his chest.

“What?” It was the only word Louis could push out, unable to form the millions of questions that were sitting on his tongue, weighing it down.

Harry sighed heavily before turning his back to Louis and walking back towards the bar. Just before he disappeared into the door, he turned, uncertainty etched on his face.

“It doesn’t have a rope, Louis.” Then he was gone, swallowed up by the crowds just beyond the patio door.

Louis stood frozen to the spot for long minutes before he finally broke and ran after his past, needing answers to questions he hadn’t even known existed five minutes earlier. But Harry was gone. Zayn said he hadn’t been feeling well and had decided to head off early. From across the table, Liam looked at Louis with sad, accusing eyes. And for once, Louis knew he probably deserved them.

\---

The next day at conference was destined to be worse than the first, with the speeches and debate on adding the Equal Marriage Act to the party’s manifesto scheduled for before lunch. Louis was up at five, meeting with his team early to help co-ordinate last minute attacks on receptive MPs and union members. The miners unions would be block voting unanimously for the Act, and the teachers unions had all come out in favour too. Most of the general workers unions were looking to be supportive, but it was still all up in the air as far as Louis was concerned, and would be until the vote was in. Afterwards, he’d have a few hours of calm before they started preparing for the work of actually getting the law through parliament. He worked for the Minister for Women and Equalities, which seemed a very strange mix of issues in Louis’ mind, so it wasn’t like Marriage Equality was their sole focus, but it continued to be the most  heavily publicised and controversial one.

The main argument against full on marriage rights hinged on the UK having passed civil partnerships into law ten years earlier. They offered almost all the same protections as marriage, but didn’t allow the word marriage to be used. The Daily Mail and the Sun were vehemently against the law, claiming that ‘the gays had gotten greedy’, and that if all they had to worry about was a semantic definition. Then obviously things weren’t as bad as they’d  made it out to be. That was nonsense, of course, but it didn’t stop the idea from germinating.

Louis spent all day every day refuting those arguments. His team pushed hard on the issue of equal rights being equal, not a lesser, inferior version of those rights for gay people. It wasn’t even like the country was highly religious anymore, although the religious groups had of course been up in arms. The average punter on the streets could barely even tell you why they thought gay marriage shouldn’t happen, with vague mentions of the Bible occasionally being offered, but too little knowledge of the book itself to be able to back them up. Since barely ten percent of the population attended any sort of religious service weekly, that wasn’t a huge surprise.

By the time the speeches ended and the vote rolled around, Louis was a nervous wreck. The Minister gave her speech fluently, just as she’d practiced a million times over the last few weeks. Her words ones that Louis had helped draft and knew better than the back of his own hand. He muttered along to parts of the speech under his breath.

“The key word here is rights. When we talk of human rights, its assumed that we talk of a right for _all_ humans. If that’s so, then, how can a right be held away from all by the few? How can we even call it a right in that case?”

“It is not enough to offer civil partnership to gay people and marriage to straight. Wherever there is a two tier system, we cause division. We, possibly without meaning to, legitimise hate against the ‘lesser’ of those tiers. We, as a government, cannot be seen to condone the idea that who you love makes you inferior in anyway. I believe that love is, after all, a human right.”

When she received a standing ovation that lasted a good five minutes Louis nearly collapsed in shock and happiness. That was only capped when a rival MPs speech against the proposal was met with jeers.

Distracted by celebrations and a fizzing belief that they might just actually pull it off, Louis didn’t immediately notice Harry was standing to cheer with the rest of the hall, that Harry stared at him while he cheered and clapped, until just before the ovation ended. Their eyes met, Harry offering a soft smile before returning to his seat.

\---

Harry found him when Louis was eating lunch with his team. Louis was laughing and toasting the victory with Lambrini whilst eating a sandwich from Greggs, but it tasted like the most wonderful meal of his life. Celebrating the culmination of months and years of hard work, draped in a rainbow flag one of his colleagues had found, happiness fizzed in his veins.

As seemed to be his new habit, Harry had impeccable timing. Just as he entered the room and locked eyes with him, one of Louis’ colleagues (Mark perhaps?), ran over and planted a celebratory kiss right on Louis’ lips. His eyes closed involuntarily while cheers rang out around the room, and upon opening them, he saw devastation written on Harry’s face. Harry hadn’t moved an inch during the kiss, still standing in the doorway, mouth open and eyes wet. Louis called to him, pushing Mark away, some desperate innate urge to not see Harry hurt taking over for the first time in years.

“Congratulations, Louis. I’ll see you around.” Harry bit out the words, his voice hard and cold before turning on his heel and heading out the door towards the carpark. The only thing Louis’ frantic mind knew to do was follow him.

By the time Louis managed to navigate the crowds and reach the carpark Harry was fifty metres away, climbing into a large Range Rover. Louis sprinted across the tarmac, barely registering that he’d left his jacket behind, the air freezing on the coast in early October. As he reached the car, Harry was pulling out of his parking space, and so, throwing caution to the wind, Louis wrenched open the passenger door and threw himself in.

The car shuddered to a stop, stalling when Harry abruptly took his foot off the clutch. Harry's  hands slammed on the steering wheel, making Louis wince, before they snaked into Harry’s curly hair and tugged at it.

“What are you doing? Go back inside, celebrate, fuck that dude. Just leave me the fuck alone, Louis.” Harry’s voice caught, Louis recognising the thickness in his voice that talked of barely contained tears, having heard it so many times before. It killed him to be the cause of that once again, and he so nearly got out of the car, before shaking it off and confronting things head on.

“If I leave, we’ll never fix this, Harry. Neither of us will ever get closure. I can’t do that. I can’t leave you.” Harry glared at him, before shifting the car back into gear and reversing out of the spot far too roughly.

“Fine. Stay. But don’t fucking complain if you don’t like where we’re  going. I can’t be here.”

Louis buckled his seatbelt and sat back, curled around so he could watch Harry’s face, but not talking. He tried to stay as still and quiet as possible, not wanting to argue with Harry when he was behind the wheel of a huge car.

They drove for a couple of hours, first on the motorway,  then drifting onto increasingly  smaller country roads as they headed towards the Lake District. Autumn seemed to have come earlier this far north, the leaves on the trees having turned towards golden, some edging their way into vibrant reds and oranges. As the skies opened up Louis lapsed into sleep, only waking again when the car rolled to a stop.

In front of them lay the wide open vista of Lake Windermere. The skies above were a clear light blue, a few fluffy white clouds dotted around. The mountains around the lake were still green and verdant, but patches of brown remained from the dry summer they’d had, unlikely now to recover as they sped into winter. It was late afternoon and as Harry opened his door, not looking back, Louis felt the chill in the air that reminded him he had no coat, only suit slacks and a thin white shirt. Loosening his tie, he removed it and laid it on the dashboard, then  climbed  out to join Harry where he stood on the shoreline.

The water lapped gently at the small patch of sand at the edge of the water. Far away Louis could see sailboats and windsurfers making the most of the last few clear days of the year before they would struggle to be out on the water. About a mile away there was an island in the middle of the lake, and Louis was transported back to a school trip he’d spent somewhere near here as a child. They had bivouacked on an island similar to that one, after canoeing out there from their base camp. He wondered if it was the same one.

Standing shoulder to shoulder with Harry, he could hear the other man breathing, could almost see his breath on the cooling air. He didn’t want to break the fragile peace that lay between them but they needed to talk.

“I came here once as a kid. First summer at secondary school. We stayed at a YMCA outdoors centre. It's where I had my first kiss actually.” It was inane chatter, but it was safe.

“Yeah?” Harry turned towards him briefly as he spoke, before turning back to look at the lake again. “I’m not sure you ever told me that story? Tell me?”

“It was a girl,” Louis laughed slightly as the memory filled his mind. “She was from some posh school down south, London I think. Her school was staying in the cabins up in the woods and we had dorm rooms in the centre. They had to walk past us every day to get to the lake.”

“It was Stan’s fault,” He turned to Harry, looking for recognition at the mention of one of Louis’ old friends, one Harry had known. He was rewarded by a soft smile on Harry’s face.

“He decided we should all spray Lynx outside our window, lure them in like the adverts promised. It was a right gross mix of loads of different kinds. Mine was Africa.” That gained him a small chuckle from the other man.

“It worked, kinda, if making them all choke and gag can be considered working.” Louis was laughing along with Harry now, remembering his past misfortunes.

“They spoke to us though, used to say hi as they walked past and we’d all try and compete to make them stay and talk longer. There was another lad there, name was Lewis, and I was pronouncing my name that way at the time, so short of the spelling we had the same name. We were apparently the ‘hot’ ones and were in some odd competition to get the girl.” Harry hummed.

“Alice was the fittest of all her mates. One day two of her pals came over when she was out on the lake doing something. Said she fancied me. Asked me out on her behalf. I said yes, of course, wasn’t going to admit to my mates at that age that I didn’t feel anything for her past friendship, we were only twelve.” Louis took a deep breath, remembering how awkward it had been.

“About an hour later the poor lass comes up from the lake looking like a bloody drowned rat. They’d been out on toppers, and her and her friend Megan had apparently taken the instructors warning that they are easy to capsize as a challenge and _tried_ to get the thing to topple over.” His laugh was kind now, a fond chuckle at the girl’s misfortune of choosing to do that while her friends were asking him out without her even knowing.

“About an hour later the poor lass comes up from the lake looking like a bloody drowned rat. They’d been out on toppers, and her and her friend Megan had apparently taken the instructors warning that they are easy to capsize as a challenge and tried to get the thing to topple over.” His laugh was kind now, a fond chuckle at the girl’s misfortune of choosing to do that while her friends were asking him out without her even knowing.

“She runs past to get to the shower block, blushing like a virgin bride. Eventually turns up a few hours later, dragged down by her friends. She tells me she didn’t even know they were going to ask me, was mortified. When they told her they’d asked Lewis out she didn’t even know which one they meant, had been worried they meant the other one who she confessed she found a bit creepy. It was so awkward.” Harry had turned bodily towards him now, engrossed in the story.

“So yeah, after dinner we went up to the footie pitch at the camp, sat between the goal posts and had our first kiss. It was her first kiss too. It was dreadful, too much tongue from both sides, way too much referring to it as snogging, which, gross. I felt nothing, not sure she felt much more. But we ‘dated’ for the rest of the week, had a few more kisses, held hands a bit. And then I went home, never saw her again but we wrote letters to each other for a bit.”

“Sounds like a good holiday, Lou.” Harry nodded softly, knowing how into outdoors stuff Louis was, even of there had been awkward trying to woo girls involved. Louis hummed in response, before they both lapsed into silence again.

“Do you wanna go find it?” Ten minutes had passed and Louis wasn’t quite sure what Harry was referring too out of the blue. “Your camp I mean.” And, oh. That was very Harry, so very very Harry.

“If you don’t mind? We could yeah.” Louis felt small, unsure of himself in a way he wasn’t used to.

Harry turned and headed back towards the car, Louis taking one last long breath of fresh air before turning after him. When he got to the car Harry was googling something on his phone, before plugging details into his sat nav.

“It’s not far from here, a ten minute drive around the lake I think.” Harry started up the car, maneuvering the gearstick into reverse and pulling away from the lake, back onto the road. He didn’t talk, seemed to have said everything he wanted to.

\---

They drove through lanes darkened by overhanging trees, it was like a tunnel of green with no end in sight. The car was dark inside, with only dappled light filtering through the canopy. When they finally drove out of the trees Louis was almost surprised to find it was still daylight. The drive had taken longer than anticipated, small country roads meant they ended up stuck behind a tractor, going about five miles an hour, the tension inside the car rising with each passing moment.

When they finally arrived at the YMCA national centre Louis was hit with a wave of nostalgia stronger than he had ever expected. A man at the small reception cabin happily allowed them to go for a wander, as no children were on site at the time. Louis pointed out the room he had shared with his friends, it was right on the corner of the main pathway to the communal areas. They walked in silence down to the lake, sitting together on a bench watching some company team building exercise out on the water. The participants seemed to have all paddled out in canoes and then formed them together into a makeshift raft by holding onto the canoes next to them. Each person had to take turns walking across the front of the canoes, trusting their team to hold the raft together below them.

“So, that guy at conference?” Harry had turned away from the lake, back towards Louis, as he spoke. Jealousy and hurt coloured his words.

“Mark? He’s just a friend, a colleague. I’m not sure what he was aiming for but believe me there is nothing there.” Louis rubbed his fingers into his temples as he hung his head, not able to quite cope with the look Harry was giving him. It wasn’t fair that Harry got to be jealous, not after all this time.

“It’s not really my business if there is anyway, is it?” Harry sounded broken, beaten down. “I’m sorry I was jealous.”

“No, you don’t get to be jealous Harry.” Louis tried to be firm despite the small part of him that flared with hope, that hope just couldn’t exist, not while Harry was an MP, Louis wasn’t going back there.

“I know. Congratulations for today. I’m sorry I ruined things yet again.” Harry turned his back to the bench, looking back out to the lake.

“How are you voting?” Louis couldn’t help but poke the sleeping bear, despite things being almost civil between them.

“I don’t know.” Harry’s answer was simple, and it angered Louis immediately.

“Don’t you think gay people should be able to get married, eh? Is marriage too good for the likes of us? Should just stay hidden shouldn’t we.” The venom in Louis’ voice caused Harry to bodily flinch, before turning to him with dark eyes.

“You think so little of me, don’t you?” Harry sounded resigned, like nothing he could ever say would change Louis’ mind. Louis didn’t know if that was true anymore though.

“That was a low blow. I’m sorry.” Louis gathered himself, before speaking again. “I just find it incredibly sad that you, of all people, can’t or won’t support this Act.”

“I actually never said that. I just. I need to talk to my team, see what the opinion polls say, see what my constituents feel. I know I’m in Manchester and it’s a LGBT friendly city, but Salford isn’t as straightforward as that. Lots of poverty, lots of unemployment, lots of immigration, lots of very old school attitudes. There are so many issues facing them, Louis, and people feel aggrieved that the government is ‘wasting’ their time on this when civil partnerships already exist.”

“I get that, I really do. But Harry, if there was a referendum on the death penalty tomorrow there would be a majority to bring it back. If we let the public decide over immigration and foreign aid and going to war we’d be the worst country in the world. Sometimes it’s down to politicians to stand up for what’s right in the face of public ignorance. Sometimes you have to put your neck on the line for the greater good.” There was an undercurrent in what they were both saying, and Louis was sure Harry could sense it too, this wasn’t just about politics.

“You’re right. I’m a coward and I know that. I have to work with my team for what’s best for me. They know I’m gay. They are busy making sure no one else knows. I need to be sure that voting with my heart here won’t jeopardise that.” That angered Louis, blood running hot like lava all of a sudden, red tinging the corners of his vision.

“So your career is more important than the lives of all the millions of people this will impact on? All those kids growing up in small towns like we did, hearing gay used as a derogatory term constantly, being told that ‘poofs’ are gross, being told to hide who they are by their own bloody families. The impact this will have, the message it sends that LGBTQ people aren’t second class, that’s huge, Harry! Your selfishness amazes me, I never thought you’d be like that.” He spat the words, watching as every one landed another blow on Harry, expecting his final sentence to deliver the knockout. Instead Harry rallied on the ropes, before coming back swinging.

“No Louis, not having those same kids watch a man’s career be utterly destroyed before it’s even started because he’s a fucking poof, is what is important.” Harry was shouting now, hardly caring if anyone out on the water was to hear. “Fuck you and your fucking assumptions.”

Harry jumped up and walked fast in the direction of the woods. He left Louis reeling. This new Harry was so unlike the one he had loved, so much more willing to defend himself, but at the same time there were glimpses here and there of his old self. It killed Louis.

Louis had smoked half a packet of menthols by the time he realised the sky was changing colour, from blue to streaks of mauve, burnt sienna and fiery yellow. He sat and watched the sun set behind the hills over the lake. The peaks looked to be in flames, gold and red consuming the world, burning it down so it could be born anew tomorrow. The purples and oranges reflected off the water, turning it into a mirror lake of fire. Louis wished he could dive in and burn up with it.

As dusk settled in Louis pushed off the bench and went in search of Harry. He didn’t have to go far, finding him sat on part of an adventure playground that was far more impressive than the one Louis had known here as a kid. Harry’s face was puffy and his nose was red, surefire signs he had been crying.

“Let’s just go back, this is getting us nowhere.” Louis scratched at the back of his head, feeling his hackles raising at the defiant look Harry was giving him, but trying to control himself.

“I’m not going back. Not today.” Harry declared, earning him a raised eyebrow in return. “I’ll drop you at a station or you can get a room at the hotel I've found, but I’m not going back. I need some more time.”

Louis googled the trains, quickly realising there was no way for him to get back to Blackpool that night. It looked like he would have to fork out for a hotel, and it irritated him despite knowing he had chosen to come with Harry, had been warned not to complain.

\---

The hotel was small and quaint, nestled in a small village a few miles from the lake. It was fully dark by the time they arrived and the air smelled of impending autumn. Light and heat spilled from the front door as Harry opened it, welcoming them into a small lobby.

“Hi, I’ve got a reservation, and he needs a room.” Harry was all smiles for the receptionist, thumbing his hand over his shoulder to indicate Louis.

“Oh, we’re full tonight and you are the last guest to check in, Sir.” She looked flustered as she checked the computer, trying to find a way to rustle up an extra room. “Would you like me to call around other places? There’s a hotel about ten miles away that might have a room.”

Harry sighed, tension building in the line of his shoulders before he let it go and turned to Louis, eyes imploring.

“No, it’s ok. We can share, can’t we Louis?” And, no. That wasn’t ok, being put on the spot like that, but Louis really had no choice.

\---

Later that night Louis lay in bed and stared at the ceiling in the dark. There was a couple of feet of space between them in the bed, and it managed to simultaneously feel so close he couldn’t breath and so far apart there may as well have been an ocean between them.

He thought Harry was asleep on the other side of the bed, could hear the quiet timbre of his breathing, could feel the way that made him want to time travel back five years to when it would have been his place to drape himself over Harry’s back and kiss promises into his skin. It was exhausting fighting with Harry, exhausting having to confront Harry. He wished things could be easy, that they could be at a point where they had dealt with all the past pain.

“Do you really think it’s going to make a difference?” The voice shocked Louis, having been certain the other man was asleep. He wasn’t sure what Harry was referring to, had Harry been able to read his thoughts about wanting things to be better between them? Was he dismissing that as an option?

“The equal marriage law, I mean.” Harry continued, Louis letting out a breath of relief. “It’s just, don’t you think the issues go deeper than that? Like, gay marriage is a token gesture when people are getting denied service at hotels for being gay, when UKIP MPs are still out there saying gay acceptance is causing actual bloody storms. When kids still get beaten up daily for being gay, when LGBTQ youth homelessness rises every year. What will this change, Louis? It’s a law for the lucky privileged LGBT people who are able to be out in their lives, it doesn’t remove the hate everyone else faces.”

By the time Harry finished his rant Louis could feel his blood boiling again, had to take a few deep calming breaths and count to ten before he spoke, but it made little difference. He sat up in bed, turning to look at Harry in the pale light of the moon that filtered through their net curtains.

“Listen, you, you curly haired cunt.” Louis bit the words out, surprised at the term his brain had used, it had once been a joking endearment between them, but now it was spiked with venom. “Of fucking course I don’t think this is going to solve everything you said. Of course it’s not the only thing I care about. Of course I don’t think it’s that bloody easy. But it’s a start. It’s something. It’s a show of fucking solidarity to say that LGBTQ people aren’t lesser, aren’t second class citizens, not in the eyes of the law at any rate. Don’t belittle the impact that will have. And don’t you dare make out that I’m privileged for being out. I still face prejudice Harry, I still have to come out to every new person I meet, have to tell them once again the story of how I fancy boys and not girls, where no straight man will ever have to define themselves by who they fuck. Just don’t.” Angry tears fell down Louis’ face, the frustration of being so far away ideologically from a man he once felt he shared a brain with filling him with hurt.

“I never said it’s the only thing you care about. I never once even thought that. I know how hard you work, I know the things you’ve worked on, I’ve been following your career.” Harry was sitting up now too, his eyes blazing in challenge. “I just don’t think it’s the be all and end all. I just don’t think me not voting for it, if that’s what I choose, is worth you hating me over.”

Louis’ mouth was hanging open, brain desperately trying to catch up with what Harry had just said. His hand rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous gesture he wasn’t even fully aware of.

“You’ve been following my career?” The fight had gone from Louis’ voice, sounding small and unsure instead, and Harry’s gaze softened every so slightly in return.

“Of course I have, you idiot. I’ve never stopped caring. I’ve..” He paused, gathering himself, “Lou I’ve loved you every second of every day since I left you, that has never stopped and don’t you dare think it would. If I were a stick of rock I’d have ‘Louis’ written right through my core. Not being able to be with you doesn’t stop you being the only man I’ll ever want to be with, Louis.” His voice softened as he talked, until at the end he was pleading.

Time felt frozen, Harry’s declaration hanging between them like a grenade. Louis watched as Harry’s hand twitched and then eventually raised towards Louis, as if in slow motion. Fingers slowly and reverently traced the line of Louis’ cheekbone, his jaw, his temple, and into his hair, tangling in the soft strands until Louis jerked, breaking the moment and Harry pulled back as if he had been burned.

“The only...” Louis choked out, eyes pleading with Harry to understand, to reassure him, to tell him it was ok. Harry nodded quickly, his own expression full of tentative hope mixed with anxiety.

“I... I don’t, I don’t know what to say. I... I need to think.” Louis stuttered, eyes not breaking from Harry’s gaze once.

“Of course, Lou, of course. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have put that on you. _Fuck_ , I’m the worst person ever.” Harry bunched his hands in the front of his curls, pulling at it before hitting himself on the head with one clenched fist.

Louis placed his hand on the offending fist, stilling Harry’s hand. He was confused and upset and hurt and hopeful and scared, but he couldn’t watch Harry literally beating himself up.

“You aren’t, you aren’t, Harry. Let’s sleep eh? Early start to get back tomorrow.” Harry nodded, and they held each other’s gaze for a moment longer before they both looked away and turned to each curl up facing their respective sides of the bed. The space between them seemed less insurmountable than it had just half an hour earlier, and Louis fell asleep with a tiny tiny seed of hope settled in his heart.

\---

His alarm went off early, waking him from strange dreams. As Louis drifted up from the depths of sleep he was baffled by the mouthful of curls he was currently breathing in. The warm expanse of muscled back currently pressed to his chest did nothing to dispel his confusion, nor did the hands clasped around his on the stomach that belonged to the owner of the back and the hair. Soft soft skin and just a trace of hair moved slightly under his fingertips as the owner breathed short puffs in and out.

It took just a few seconds for Louis to remember he was sharing a bed with Harry, to remember the grenade that had been placed gently in his hands last night. One he had the option of either defusing or pulling the pin, of carrying on as normal or blowing up his entire world. His first instinct was to pull Harry closer, to snuffle into the smell of home and his youth, of young love and forevers. He gave in to that impulse for a few beats, revelling in possibility, feeding the seed of hope inside him, before he gently pushed away and turned to get out of bed.

He stood by the window, back to the bed, willing himself to not turn and watch Harry sleep. It was still dark outside. The days were getting shorter far too quickly for Louis’ liking but it was early enough that the dark didn’t seem to speak of encroaching winter for once, just of a need for coffee and a long drive back to get to conference for nine. He needed to wake Harry but the morning seemed so fragile, like if he changed anything the grenade might go off before he had a chance to make his decision.

He moved towards the small kettle in the room, filling it from the bathroom sink and setting it in it’s cradle to boil, emptying two sachets of coffee into mugs for them. Two sugars for Harry. As the kettle boiled the other man started to stir, small snuffles and whimpers escaping his mouth as he blindly turned towards where Louis had been, as if searching for him. Louis swallowed heavily, mouth suddenly dry.

“Here you are Haz,” He paused, the name feeling both foreign and oh so right on his tongue. “I made you coffee.” He placed it on the bedside table, watching as Harry’s green eyes blinked up at him, momentarily confused as he obviously worked through the same recollections Louis had ten minutes previously. Then his face morphed into a picture of contrition before he ducked his eyes away, focusing instead on the steaming coffee.

“Thanks.” His voice was gruff with sleep and it transported Louis back to morning cuddles and blowjobs, full on morning sex if they could manage to wake up early enough. His cock twitched in his boxers and he turned his back quickly on the scene, hoping to every god out there that Harry hadn’t noticed. Grabbing his clothes he headed into the shower, face blushing with desire and embarrassment.

\---

Too hot water beat down on his back as he stood holding his hard cock loosely in his hand. He still had time to back out and not wank over his ex boyfriend who was only a few feet away behind a thin door. He could still be the bigger man, even though he knew he wouldn’t be. His hand started to move of it’s own volition, pulling a gasp from him as he tipped his head back into the stream.

Visions of Harry danced before his eyes. Eighteen year old Harry with tight curls and pouty lips, baby faced with his oh so innocent looking dimples. Nineteen year old Harry who had discovered that eating Louis’ arse was his favourite thing to do and who made sure he did it at least once a day. Twenty year old Harry who had started to grow his hair out and become more comfortable in his own skin, who had a jawline that could cut diamonds and eyes that smouldered as he pinned Louis to the bed and shook him apart. Twenty one year old Harry who cried and pleaded for forgiveness as he really did shake Louis’ world apart. All the Harry’s he had known merged with the new twenty six year old Harry who had loved him every day for the past five years and who was offering him something, Louis wasn’t certain what yet. They danced in front of his eyes as he stroked faster and faster, whispering declarations to him of love and lust and forever. He finally came with Harry’s name on his lips, imagining the Harry that had once stopped him on a deserted street at one am as they walked home, got down on his knees in the dirt and sung praise you to Louis, his eyes earnest and full of love as he celebrated Louis.

His eyes opened to a non-descript white tiled hotel bathroom, his come still splattered on the wall in front of him. His skin was pink from the hot water and his stomach heaved as he gasped through the last throes of his release. Guilt washed over him nearly instantly, refusing to be washed away with his come, crawling up his spine instead and settling somewhere around his heart.

\---

Thirty minutes later they were both showered and dressed and back in the car. It was still dark, despite being nearly seven, and there was a tension between them that felt as thick as the darkness. As they drove slowly back to the motorway thin autumn sunlight started to penetrate the gloom, rising slowly over the horizon and painting the clouds it reached with brilliant lilacs and pinks.

As the light seeped into the sky, so the tension seeped out of the car, both men visibly relaxing as they sipped on service station coffees and tried to not get pastry crumbs on their suits.

Louis turned towards Harry and focused on him as they sped down the motorway towards real life and their friends, towards questions and work and closets and PR people. He watched as Harry’s jaw clenched infinitesimally, he watched each slow blink and each puffed out breath through plush pouted lips, he watched each swallow that left Harry’s adams apple bobbing in his throat. Finally he broke the silence.

“Truce?” His voice was filled with hope and offers of more.

“Truce” Harry nodded in return, his voice sounding like honey and home.

\---

That night, after conference had dragged to a close, the five men met early for dinner before they headed to the Pleasure Beach. As Louis entered the park he was faced with an array of roller coasters that made his head spin. He’d been here before, but every time he came the lights and noise and smells and possibilities of adrenaline chasing filled him with expectation. Right now, after his strange sojourn to the Lake District and the revelations that had brought, his stomach was filled with a mixture of butterflies and iron knots and he felt like he might throw up if he attempted to go on any of the rides.

Niall would broker no argument however, and they all soon found themselves dragged in the direction of the Big One. The line wasn’t too long, it being a weekday evening in the middle of October, but they still had to queue for a good thirty minutes. He could feel Harry’s presence behind him the whole time, could almost smell Harry’s sweet breath. He had never been more relieved to finally reach the front of the line and climb into a seat. His relief was short lived, as Harry climbed into the one beside him, a small smile on his face as he glanced over at Louis.

“Want me to hold your hand in case you get scared, Lou?” Harry joked, his voice lilting with humour.

“I think I’ll manage, Styles.” He rolled his eyes in reply, just as the man came round to check the bars of their seats were securely locked down.

The ride built slowly, edging ever closer to the top where it paused for a moment. The calm before the storm. Louis just had time to take in the lit up park below them, the sea in front of them spreading endlessly into the distance, and the Tower to their right, lit up like a beacon. Then the world dropped from under him as they raced steeply downwards before flying up again and again, Louis losing track of which way the ground was meant to be.

They fell off the ride all soft laughs and caught breath. All five boys linked arms, Louis and Harry separated by Zayn, to help steady their shaking legs as they exited through the gift shop. There were photos of people on the ride up on display screens; ones you could purchase for some extortionate amount. They all found their photos and Liam, Niall and Zayn were laughing heartily at the looks on their own faces, but Harry was quiet and frozen beside him. Louis looked up at the screens and saw why. Where Louis was staring straight ahead, his mouth opened in a frozen scream, the Harry in the photo wasn’t looking at the camera. He was looking at Louis, and the expression he wore was a heartbreaking mixture of hope and worship.

The others wandered away to look at the souvenirs on offer, tatty recreations of the tower and hats that asked the person reading them to kiss the wearer quick. Harry followed them, his hands in his pockets and his head stooped. Louis turned back to the photo and stared. Even on a rollercoaster Harry’s entire focus was on Louis and it was kind of beautiful.

“Can I help you, love?” The young girl behind the counter prodded him from his thoughts.

“Yeah, can I have a print of number 155204 please?” He kept his voice low, handing over the fifteen quid she needed and receiving a copy of the photo in return. He slipped it into his bag before any of the boys saw, and walked over to join them.

\---

Six roller coasters later Niall was dripping wet from Valhalla and they were ready to call it a night. No one else had agreed to go on the last ride with Niall, and so he was the only one who needed to head back to the hotel to change before they went for a last pint or three in the pub. He waved off and said he’d meet them there in thirty minutes, and the others all decided to take one last look around the tatty souvenir shops.

Louis wandered off by himself, wanting to pick up some trinkets for his sisters, with plans to meet back at the entrance in ten. He walked through an arcade before finding himself in a shop that seemed to sell only sweets and things made of garish shades of plastic. There were buckets and spades optimistically hanging from a wall, the sandcastle building season long over, and more innuendo laden postcards than you could shake a stick at. The stand of traditional Blackpool rock caught his eye, with Harry’s words from last night drifting back to him.

Three minutes later he had some plastic jewellery in his bag along with the photo, and a last minute addition; a stick of rock that read Harry through it.

\---

The pub was packed, full of networking and under the table shady dealings with cabinet adjacent MPs, lots of agreements to ask questions during PMQs or table motions. It was the part of politics that Louis hated the most. He was relieved when they spotted Niall’s blonde mop over the other side of the room, legs and arms octopused across four extra chairs he had saved for the boys at a small table. The table was scarred and probably permanently smelled of the beer that was soaked into the heart of its grain. Louis wondered what stories it might be able to tell if it could talk.

They all grabbed pints and headed over, Niall’s face beaming as he saw them approach.

“My favourite leprechaun!” Louis crowed, despite the fact they had been parted for only half an hour, throwing his arms around the blonde’s neck and planting kisses on his cheeks. Niall squirmed under his attention.

“Fuck off Tommo, you insufferable arse.” He moaned, the grin that split his face in two betraying his true emotions,

“You love my arse Horan, don’t even try to lie. My arse is a fucking work of art. Like a Renoir, or a Picasso. The painting of my arse should hang in the Louvre. They should study my arse in art classes, spend whole courses studying the splendid contours of its exquisiteness, don’t you think? They sh...” Niall threw a hand over Louis’ mouth, laughing.

“Enough! Stop quoting Dom Hemingway. If you must, at least make it about your cock like the bloody film, not your bleeding arse.” Louis licked a strip onto Niall’s hand, his eyes wide with mirth as the other man removed it with a grimace.

The others looked confused but were still laughing. Liam was less confused, having been subjected to Louis’ obsession with the film in question. From the moment he had seen Jude Law stood arms spread in a prison bathroom, waxing lyrical about his cock while mouth unseen sucked him off, Louis had been in love. It spoke to him on a spiritual level.

They settled in to their table, drinks going down happily and a noticeable reduction in the tension there had been at their last trip. Louis had warned Liam and Niall yesterday when he ended up in the Lake District with Harry, and he had filled them in on most of the details over lunch. He had missed out the most personal moments but the boys knew there was a truce, and that made everyone much happier.

Two pints in Zayn stood to go for a smoke, smiling kindly at Louis and asking if he wanted to join. Louis was relieved, he really liked Zayn, had felt they were getting somewhere, and had been a bit worried that Harry might have been upset after last night and might have spoken to his friend about it. Zayn was fiercely protective of Harry, as he had found out to his cost. Louis liked knowing Harry had someone in his corner, parliament was not an easy place to be, and so it was good they had each other. He wasn’t jealous, not even a tiny bit, of their easy friendship, or at least that's what he told himself.

They stood by a heater on the smoking terrace, both huddled in jackets to keep out the cutting wind that the gas burner couldn’t hope to compete with. Lighting their cigarettes was a challenge and caused them both to huff out frustrated laughter at the situation. Finally they were done, turning towards each other as they inhaled at the same time.

Zayn smiled at him, a look that Louis thought was pride on his face. After a few more drags in silence, the other man spoke.

“I’m glad you guys are ok. Or are trying to be ok. I really like you three and I’d been hoping we could all be friends.” Louis thought Zayn was blushing slightly, but it might just have been the glow from the heater.

“Me too, man. You’re a good lad. And you and Li seem to have really hit it off.” The possible blush deepened, interesting. “I dunno if me and Haz are ever going to be mates, but we can be civil, can spend time together, so there's no reason for you and Li to feel torn on that, if you want to hang out.”

“That's good, ‘cause, uh,” Zayn ducked his head and shuffled his feet a bit. It was an odd look on this beautiful god of a man who stood up in front of the whole of parliament and advocated for the rights of his constituents, and it made Zayn look very young. “Cause, uh. Um. I wanted to ask Liam to come to the fireworks on bonfire night. I’m going with Harry and wondered if you’d come too? Make sure he’s not alone if me and Li, um.” That was definitely a blush.

“I’d love to come, Zayn. Don’t stress about it, eh?” Louis wasn’t actually sure he would love to come. That would depend on how he and Harry were doing in four weeks time when the night out was happening. Four weeks in which he probably wouldn’t even see Harry. The thought turned his stomach, making him determined that he would go to the fireworks, if only to have an excuse to see Harry.

They stubbed out their cigarettes and headed back to their table, where Harry was holding court telling a story and Niall and Liam just looked confused. Louis knew that look, had seen it all the time at university. It was the ' _what the heck is Harry talking about and why is he talking so slow'_  look.

“So then in the end it was just a banana.” Harry drawled his way to the punchline of the story as Zayn and Louis returned. Liam and Niall looked none the wiser for having a conclusion, and looked at each other for a second before they burst into laughter.

“Hey” Harry whined, his voice still deeper than Louis’ normal voice. “It wasn’t a joke guys.”

“It's j-just” Niall choked around his laughter, “Just you ramble a lot, Harry, and I’m not really sure what happened in the story mate.”

Harry’s lips rounded into an ‘oh’, brows knitting and hurt shimmering in his eyes. Louis couldn’t help it, he threw his arm around Harry’s shoulders and squeezed, asking to hear the story himself. It was just like the old days, where friends would be impatient for Harry to finish his tale, but Louis would be enraptured, caught up in Harry’s voice like a spiders web.

The night carried on in that fashion, stories and jokes and camaraderie. Louis could almost forget everything, forget the past five years, and he sunk back into Harry like he was made to be there. They sat close, arms bumping with each swallow of beer and giggled little private jokes to each other. The more they drank the more obvious they became, small touches and deep inhales of the others hair as they pressed closer.

Liam sat across from Louis raising his eyebrows whenever he could catch Louis’ eye. Louis avoided looking at him, naturally, as Liam was basically the angel on Louis’ shoulder, and right now he wanted to listen to the devil. It might hurt tomorrow, in fact Louis was certain it would hurt, but he had missed this so much.

Liam eventually dragged Louis away just before midnight. It took a while to say goodbye. There were long farewell hugs with Niall, and promises from him that he would visit London soon. There were needy looks exchanged between Louis and Harry as they stood restrained by their respective friends. There were longing looks between Zayn and Liam that neither seemed to register receiving from the other. It was like some Shakespearean farce, and Louis couldn’t help giggling to himself as he thought that.

\---

Being back in London was hard after their break from the normal rhythms of work. In Clapton, where Louis and Liam lived, it was starting to look more like autumn as the weeks progressed. Piles of leaves seemed to appear from nowhere on street corners, not even close to trees as far as Louis could tell. The previous day he had added a scarf to his work look for the first time since March, and while he loved winter layers, he was less impressed by the fact the shortening days meant he was standing in the dark at seven am waiting for a bus into town.

Liam loved it here. His Muay Thai gym was a five minute walk away, up near the ponds, and that apparently made up for the fact they weren’t near a tube line. What did make up for that was the fact their landlord was old, and hadn’t put up the rent in four years, which meant that while the area had gentrified around them, they had managed to afford to stay put. Louis liked the area despite his complaints. It was close enough to Dalston to be able to access the bars there but far enough out to be not entirely populated by hipsters. There was still a local community, still shops that sold plantain and salt fish rather than quinoa and organic kale.

The 38 bus finally arrived, one of the new modern routemasters which had cost a fortune and had none of the charm of the old ones. He tapped his oyster card in and then settled into a seat. One of the other benefits of living where they did was he was far enough out that he usually got a space before the bus filled at Hackney Central. As they wound slowly past the baths, and down the narrow way, he watched life go on around him. The shops were mostly still shut, but that didn’t stop the steady stream of people walking down the road through the church yard. A small child was kicking leaves that had been carefully raked into a pile as her mother tried to drag her away. A girl joined the bus and sat beside him sipping on a Starbucks cup. The unmistakable smell of pumpkin spice assaulted his nose, making his face wrinkle in disgust. The marketing that must have been employed to make a country that didn’t even make pumpkin pie think it was an acceptable flavouring was just mind boggling. Louis wondered if they should try and head hunt the Starbucks people for political marketing, they seemed they'd be the type to be able to sell coals to Newcastle.

The bus was stopped by a McDonald's, golden light spilling from its large front windows. Louis could just catch a hint of hashbrowns and sausage mcmuffins over the sweet smell of the girl’s coffee, and it made his stomach rumble. There was a time when he would have walked down to get the bus here, so he could grab a bite for his journey, but Liam had really pushed healthy eating the past couple of years and it just seemed easier to go along with him. He turned and rested his head on the cold window, condensation dampening his forehead. Outside people continued to move past, bundled in scarves and hats, winter coats starting to come out as October came to its end. It had been two entire weeks since he had seen Harry, and it felt like someone had cut out some small but necessary organ, leaving a gaping hole where it should be in his chest.

They had sent texts, and there was a group chat with Zayn and Liam and Niall, but it wasn’t the same. Louis hadn’t expected to miss Harry this much, had tried his hardest to protect himself, until he had got drunk and started toying with the pin of the grenade Harry had given him. The morning after Liam had dragged him from the pub, he had woken with a head full of power drills, and a stomach full of heavy regret. They hadn’t seen each other since. They hadn’t mentioned that night to each other since either, but Louis had got an earful from Liam over it and was sure Harry had from Zayn too.

Liam said Louis had danced too close to the fire, and had been inevitably burned. Louis thought he might be right.

The bus passed down onto Mare Street, Hackney looking less gentrified for just a moment before it turned back down towards Dalston. Through Highbury, past Kings Cross, down towards Oxford Street. Louis stared out of the window looking at the many different versions of London flying past. The city was a jumble of villages that had somehow merged and sprawled together. Different architecture marked out the areas he passed through, different people filled them, different shops sold different food from different countries, and yet there was a thread through it all, something unmistakably London. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, maybe the dreadful weather that fell like a heavy blanket over the city. His granny would describe the day as mizzlin’, just grey and drizzly and cold.

Louis got off the bus at Tottenham Court Road and fought his way onto the tube, pushing into a space too small for him and contorting himself to be able to hold onto a pole. The tube line was hot, too many people crammed into a small space, and suddenly his autumn layers and scarf were too much, sweat beading on his upper lip and forehead. By the time he got to the office the hair at the back of his neck was slicked down with sweat but he was shivering again from the short walk. He really hated London at times, when he was shoved from too hot to too cold with such frequent regularity that he ended up with a head cold and a collection of lemsip on his desk to rival the pharmacy in Boots.

After half an hour at his desk Louis was already drifting off into thoughts of Harry, of how much he missed him, and was dangerously close to picking up his phone and calling Harry, asking him to meet him in the strangers bar for a drink, asking him to take him home and ravish him. He hated his love life being the complicated, wished it was April again when he hadn’t realised the tidal wave that is Harry Styles was about to come back into his life. Instead of calling Harry he decided to turn to snooping through Liam’s love life.

Three years ago an anonymous blog about a gay man dating his way through London had gone viral. There had been articles in Attitude and Gay Times, and it had even received coverage in the national papers, including a particularly interesting comment is free article in the Guardian. Louis, being the curious gay man he was, had decided to check it out, like many of his friends had, if only to check that he wasn’t one of the dates Mr Anonymous had been on. What he had found out was even more interesting than a rating of his own dating prowess, he had found that he knew all the stories, because he had heard them all from his housemate. It didn’t take long to realise that it wasn’t a coincidence, this was Liam’s blog. He’d kept up with it since then, buying Liam little presents to cheer him up when he sounded down, just generally keeping tabs on him to make sure he didn’t get his heart broken. It had been a while since he had snooped, being too caught up with work and his own love life, but he needed the distraction right now.

> _Hi all,_
> 
> _Sorry I haven’t updated in awhile!! It’s been all go here at work and I assumed my love life would take a hit in return and so had planned a hiatus, but I’ve actually met someone really interesting. Let’s call him Mr Z. I sort of work with him, although we are in very different parts of our field, and I met him through Boo. For the longest time I had no idea if he was straight or not, my gaydar must be playing up! Turns out, he’s gay! Yay! Or bi at least, although he is in the closet because of his work, which sucks :(. He’s super hot though, I’m talking cheekbones chiseled by Zeus himself._
> 
> _So, we met through Boo (My housemate for any newbies!) and we went for dinner a few weeks ago. He paid, which was a great sign, and we had a long walk after dinner along the embankment. I wasn’t sure it meant anything as he only mentioned a female ex, but I wanted to he his friend anyway so stuck with it._
> 
> _A couple of weeks ago we ended up in the same place for three days away from home with work. After Boo vanished with his ex (Who is Mr Z’s roommate, that’s a blog entry for another day! Drama!) Mr Z and I sort of ended up going for a walk alone. There was a bit of tension as our respective friends have both hurt each other a lot, and we got in a big fight, both defending their actions. Well, it’s a cliche but we ended up squaring up to each other, and then he leaned in and kissed me instead! It was hot, angry and aggressive, which you all know by now turns me on no end._
> 
> _We ended up back in his hotel room, and, well I’m going to keep the details to myself but I can say it was the best sex I have ever had. He was so fighty and bitey and it was amazing. Most of the bi guys I’ve been with seem to want to top, I guess they’re used to it, but he’s vers which is per-fect._
> 
> _We’ve decided to keep it to ourselves for a bit, ‘cause of the awkward situation between our friends, but we’ve been seeing each other about twice a week since then. It’s tough, ‘cause we can’t go to either of our places easily, so there’s been a lot of hot hotel sex which is amazing. (This place the other day had a bathroom with a glass wall so you could see the bath from the bed, and, well don’t tell anyone but he tied me up and then made me watch him wanking and prepping himself in the bath. By the time he finally sat on my cock, dripping wet from his bath, I nearly died. Oops, shouldn’t have shared that!)_ __
> 
> _Even though we’re dating and I really like him, we still seem to spar with each other, calling each other on our bullshit and then having angry make-up sex. It’s pretty damn wonderful._
> 
> _So, to the traditional ratings..._
> 
> _Looks: 10/10_
> 
> _Personality: 10/10_
> 
> _Sex: 11/10_
> 
> _I’ll definitely be seeing him again, and will keep you guys updated, but for now it looks like singlegayinlondon is no longer so single! I’m so happy. Please leave a comment, you guys know how much I love hearing your thoughts!_ __
> 
> _SGIL xx_
> 
>  
> 
> _Comments:_
> 
> _**Anon** \- Happy for you SGIL but don’t go all coy now, we want to know the sex details!_
> 
> _**Gingergay** \- I’m so gutted, it sounds like I’ve missed my chance to be with you SGIL. I’m going to go cry into my tea while you enjoy the hot sex! x_ __
> 
> _**Gonegirl1367** \- I love this! I’ve been following your adventures for years and you finally sound like you’ve met someone good enough for you. I’m cheering you on._
> 
> _**Politicallycharged** \- I hope he’s good enough for you SGIL, we’ll miss the dating stories though_
> 
> __

Louis was shocked He hadn’t even realised that Zayn and Liam had slept together, let alone that they were staying at hotels together twice a week. He hadn’t even noticed Liam not coming home, which showed what a bad housemate and friend he had been this last few weeks, or months really. He still found it strange just how incredibly camp Liam read on his blog, but he guessed that was part of the separation of his real life Liam and ' _singlegayinlondon Liam'_ personalities. It had thrown him off to start with, unsure if the stories were really Liam’s or if he was confused. Too many coincidences had occurred since then, however. He clicked through to the most recent entry, dated from a few days ago.

 

> _Hi again!_ __
> 
> _Soooo, I had a lot of people asking for more info on Mr Z, and while I said I wouldn’t talk about it, he’s just so, well, swoony. I can’t talk to my real life friends as they still don’t know (I know, I know, I should tell them) so I’ll share with you all instead._
> 
> _Last night we went out for a wonderful dinner, and then we were able to go back to his for once as his housemate was away with work. Thank goodness, these hotels are getting super pricey! So anyway, that meant we could be a bit more relaxed and a bit louder. So as we are getting into it, he gets a text from said housemate, which was a bit rude, but I know he worries about him. Said housemate was apparently upset he hadn’t heard from my housemate, even though they are exes and Boo should by rights hate Mr Z’s housemate (let’s give him a name.... hmmm... Curly), and Boo has been trying hard to be civil for mine and Mr Z’s sake. It’s so complicated, the last thing I want is for Boo to get hurt. So anyway, we sort of ended up arguing about Boo and Curly again, and in the end to shut him up I just picked him up and threw him over my shoulder and carried him to bed. He’s smaller than me but he’s wiry strong, so he was fighting me and shouting at me and calling me names. By the time I got him on the bed we were both panting and rock hard._ __
> 
> _It was the best sex I’ve ever had. I say that every time I fuck Mr Z, but it honestly gets better every time. It was so fraught and full of tension, just nails and hair pulling and rough rough sex. Guys I think I might be in love!_
> 
> _This morning I am so sore, covered in love bites and scratches. We both fucked each other so my muscles are aching like I ran a marathon, it took that to get the temperature between us to finally cool down to a level where we could sleep. The sleeping was almost as great as the sex. He cuddled up against me and I got to hold him all night which was pretty amazingly sweet after a night like that._
> 
> _I think we will be ok, I just hate hiding. Curly and Boo are both coming to hang out with us at the fireworks in a week or so, and I’ve got my fingers crossed that Mr Z agrees we tell them then. I think if they knew they’d both try harder._
> 
> _Wish me luck_
> 
> _(not so) SGIL xx_

Louis closed the tab before he could read the comments this time, feeling slightly nauseated. He definitely didn’t need quite so much information about Liam and Zayn’s love life, but he supposed it was a necessary price to pay to find out that Harry missed him. He still resented the fact Liam’s pseudonym for him was Boo, but there wasn’t much he could do to change that now.

Harry missed him. Harry missed him so much he was complaining to Zayn about it. Louis was completely and utterly fucked. If he had been dancing too close to the fire before, he was a bloody Guy on top of the pyre ready for bonfire night now. How did just a few words on Liam’s blog make him want the other boy so much it hurt? It felt like he could hardly breath with how much he wanted to run to Harry in Whitehall and beg him to tell Louis the grenade was still in Louis’ hands, because Louis wanted to pull the pin.

\---

They met at Wood Green station, pushing through crowds to try and spot each other with the added difficulty of recognition through layers of scarves and knitted hats. When Louis finally spotted Harry he found the other boy wearing a particularly ridiculous red and yellow striped bobble hat, with a bright blue pom pom on top. The scarf around his neck didn’t match at all, being black and white houndstooth. His coat was long and black, open over a lilac jumper which Louis recognised with a painful tug to the guts was the one he used to practically live in the winter before they split up.

Louis hadn’t followed up on his revelation the other day. When he had texted Harry to ask if he fancied a drink, Harry had taken five hours to reply and had then made excuses for every night until bonfire night. It had seemed pretty obvious to Louis that Liam had either been mistaken, or Harry had managed to get over missing Louis just fine by himself. Louis didn’t plan on following up on anything anymore, but Harry looked like sin, and threw his arms around Louis so enthusiastically that it was hard to remember that.

Zayn and Liam quickly followed behind Harry through the crowds, both wearing outfits that matched slightly better than Harry’s. There were claps on the back and kisses on the cheek all round, before they readied to finally set off for the short walk to Ally Pally where the fireworks display was located. Before they could go the surprise that only Louis knew about shouted at them from down the street, Irish brogue carrying over the heads of the people around them. Another round of hugs and kisses ensued. Liam declared Louis a sneaky liar, which Louis just raised his eyebrows at because talk about ironic.

It took a lot longer to walk to the park than normal, with people thronging on the pavements and out of pub beer gardens. By the time they were halfway up the hill, just high enough to find a spot to see through the trees, the fireworks were just about to start. Below them was a big bonfire, people silhouetted against it. There were trails of sparks in the air from sparklers all around them, people laughing with ruddy cheeks as they tried to write their names. The air smelled of cold; of dying leaves, of apples and warm spiced cider, of rain that afternoon that had soaked into the ground.

The crowd around them was pushing in on all sides, and it was difficult to carve out a space for the five of them. He found himself pushed far closer to Harry than he had intended, but he couldn’t think too deeply about it when Niall was handing around a flask of hot whiskey made to his Ma’s recipe. It was heady and sweet and smoky, with lots of lemon to freshen it. Louis couldn’t think of anything he would rather be drinking.

Harry had made parkin, and they all took a piece. It was sticky and rich, glueing to their teeth just like the stuff Louis had eaten as a kid. He knew Harry had planned this, but he wasn't sure why. He looked at Harry wonderingly, trying to work out if Harry remembered Louis begging for parkin at uni, or if this was a coincidence. Harry just smiled in return.

As the fireworks started the faces of everyone around Louis turned to look into the sky, _oohs_ and _ahhs_ flowing from the mouths of the upturned faces. Unfortunately for Louis, he couldn’t drag his eyes away from the pale column of Harry’s neck, the sharp line of his jaw, the perfection that was his profile, and so the fireworks were rather lost on him.

Louis had his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, having forgotten to bring gloves with him, but he had to keep removing them to take the flask, or to brush his hair out of his eyes, and before long they were red and stiff. He was just rubbing them together when Harry glanced over, his fingers twitching towards Louis as if he meant to take his hand. Louis let his hand right hand hang down beside him, rather than shoving it back in his pocket, hoping to encourage Harry. Before long Harry’s hand twitched beside him again, fingers brushing gently over the back of Louis’. Louis forced himself to remain still, barely even breathing for fear of Harry thinking he had twitched away. Fingers entwined slowly, until finally their hands were grasped, tattoos lining up to connect the rope and the anchor.

Louis stared ahead at the fireworks, desperately trying to hold himself together as warmth seeped into him from the point of contact, until his whole body felt like he was standing right next to the bonfire. It was a quiet and secret moment between them, neither acknowledging it outwardly but both relaxing into it as the night progressed.

Their hands didn’t drop until the fireworks were over and their friends all turned back to them to discuss where to go next. Harry brushed his thumb across Louis’ knuckles one last time, skin soft over the rougher skin of Louis’ hand. A shudder of pure want went down Louis’ spine and he felt his cock filling with the super heated blood which coursed through him.

When the contact was gone it was like he had been plunged into a cold bath, his whole body turning in Harry’s direction to seek the heat again, but Harry had turned away, slinging his arm around Zayn’s shoulders as he laughed about how strong the whiskey was. It was like the moment had never happened, and Louis couldn’t help but wonder if he had imagined it.

The night continued in a bar near Wood Green, the five of them jammed into a corner of a beer garden near a heater, scarves and hats abandoned for a short time. Harry was vibrant and happy, the life and soul of the party, but he barely spared a glance for Louis. When their eyes did meet there was no recognition there, no shared acknowledgement of how their hands had been entangled not an hour previously. Louis could still feel the phantom touch of fingers, and he rubbed over his hand almost obsessively, as if trying to prove that his sense of touch was not faulty and the moment had been real.

Before long there were shots and calls to go clubbing, but Louis discreetly lost his friends in the throng around the tube station and headed home to his bed and his thoughts instead. Confusion filled his mind, unable to reconcile the Harry from Liam’s blog with the Harry who had refused his offers to meet; the Harry who held his hand in the dark with the Harry who had then resolutely ignored it as if it meant nothing; the Harry he had loved with all of his heart and soul with the Harry who now seemed to want to be only friends, if that.

\---

He woke to concerned texts from Liam and Niall, wondering where he had gone and if he was ok. He wasn’t ok, but he didn’t think sharing that would do him much good. Instead he put the kettle on and settled down to a bowl of cornflakes and Saturday morning TV. Some celebrity was being threatened with his food heaven or food hell on Saturday Kitchen, but Louis couldn’t muster the enthusiasm to even pay attention to what each option entailed, never mind gleefully cackle when food hell won like he normally would.

At eleven he decided to stop moping and get out of the house. He would walk down to London Fields and go for a swim in the heated Lido, maybe walk to Broadway Market after. The steam rising from the water and the contrast between the cold air and warm water was one of his favourite things in autumn, before it got too cold and was too much even for him. Throwing swim gear into a bag he checked if Liam had come home. He hadn’t, which was probably a good sign that Zayn had told Harry about their relationship even if Louis was still officially in the dark.

Grabbing his keys he walked to the door of their flat, tugging a beanie down over his unwashed hair. He remembered his gloves this time, thought that the memory of what happened when he forgot them would probably haunt his dreams for months to come. Opening the door he was hit with the smell of winter, fresh cold air flowing into the flat behind him. He was also hit by the vision of Harry coming down the short path to his front door, and he froze.

“Lou, I can’t do this anymore. Can we talk?” Harry looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept all night. There were dark bruises under his eyes and his hair was haphazardly thrown into a bun with more tendrils escaping than staying tamed.

“Can’t do what?” Louis had aimed for determined and cold, but his voice fell closer to scared and unsure.

“Fight? Hold hands and then have you ignore me? Swing from hot to cold all the time like this? Have you act like I mean nothing to you?” Harry sounded defeated and broken but Louis was too confused to really take it all in. _He_ had ignored Harry? No, that wasn’t right.

“I think you’d better come in.” He said in lieu of the millions of questions he really wanted to ask.

Louis dropped his bag by the door and toed off his shoes, leaving Harry to do the same as he walked through to the kitchen and busied himself making tea. Two sugars for Harry. He heard socked feet on the wooden floors behind him and turned with mugs in hand just as he felt Harry’s breath on his neck. He found himself with a face full of Harry, boxed in against the counter in a position that felt so intimate, so them, that it physically hurt him. He pushed out of Harry’s space, taking the cups to the big wooden kitchen table that sat by the window taking up most of the space in the room.

“I didn’t ignore you.” It was all Louis could think to say. It was all he had been thinking since Harry said the words.

“You held my hand and then never spoke to me again, Lou.” Harry’s voice was soft, like he was speaking to a cornered animal.

“You dropped my hand and then turned to the others like nothing had happened, like yet a-fucking-gain I was your dirty secret.” Louis was shouting now, eyes blazing with hurt as he lifted his head from his cup to spit the words across the table.

“Lou.” Harry whispered, voice shocked and hurt. “Lou, I’m sorry, that’s not what I intended, not how I saw it. I’m so sorry. So so sorry.”

“It’s never what you intended is it? But it’s what happened for years Harry.” Louis took a deep breath before continuing, barely thinking straight enough to get his words out, not even thinking about the content. “It’s what would happen over and over again if anything were to happen between us again.”

Harry looked like someone had punched him in the gut, the air and fight going out of him instantaneously.

“Was that even a possibility, Lou?” He asked, voice small and full of heartbreaking hope.

“I don’t know, Harry. I thought it might be for a while. Fuck! I’ve missed you so much. I’ve missed you for fucking years, every second of every hour of every day to start with. In the past few years it had finally settled into a dull ache at the back of my mind, something I only paid attention to when I was alone or when it was quiet and I could almost hear your voice echoing in my mind. Maybe I only actively missed you for an hour or two a day, and that felt like progress. Then, in the months before you were elected I almost managed to move on. I went on more dates, I made Liam think I was ok, I was faking it until I made it and goddamn it, Harry, I was so close to making it.” He paused, sipping on his tea and fiddling with his hands, running his fingers over the tattoo that would forever tie him to this man across the table.

“I watched you get elected you know? I sat on the sofa in the living room and I watched. I drank myself into a stupor after, and hid for months every time I saw you in Westminster or Whitehall.”

“I didn’t know” Harry whispered. His eyes were wide and his skin pale, if anything he looked worse than when he walked in.

“Of course you didn’t know. That was kind of the point of hiding from you. But then we met again, and I had to miss you while seeing you everywhere. My best mate is fucking your best mate for god’s sake. It’s like the entire world is conspiring to make sure I never forget you.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to forget.” Harry levelled at him, which wasn’t fair.

“But that’s the fucking thing Harry. You don’t get to fucking come in here and blow everything I’ve built since you left to pieces and say fucking shit like that. Cause it won’t fucking last. And you won’t fucking stay and I’ll fucking fall apart again and it’s not fucking fair.” Louis choked the last words around sobs, tears now falling free and fast down his face. His entire body shook with the sobs that wrenched through him. It wasn’t fair, none of this was fair.

Harry’s arms wrapped around him from behind, Louis hadn’t even noticed that Harry had moved. He turned into the comfort, even though it came from the only person who could and had made him feel this way. He turned in and he curled his fists into Harry’s chest and clung as he sobbed into the smell of love.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Harry muttered into his hair, breath hot over Louis’ ear.

“But you will, you will.” Louis could barely speak for crying and he wasn’t sure if Harry would actually hear his words. In response Harry placed a kiss onto the top of his head, and then one onto his temple, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. And then, through tears and sobs and pain they were kissing, passionately and needily, like it was the only thing that could keep them both from drowning.

Louis clung as they kissed, and he didn’t stop crying for a second of it. It felt like coming home and breaking up all at once. Like he had everything he needed but was freefalling with no parachute.

The kiss finally broke when they both needed air. For a second Louis wasn’t sure if the moisture on Harry’s face was from his own tears or if Harry was crying too. But the tears continued to fall, both still clinging and shaking as they fell apart and fell together.

“Lou, baby, I love you. I never wanted to leave but I had to. For your sake yeah, but mostly for mine. I was self centred, I know that. I’ve wished every day that you’d forgotten me, moved on, found love, found happiness. I never will, and I know that, but I wanted it for you so much.” Louis’ sobs increased anew, he didn’t even know how Harry was able to speak so eloquently whilst crying, when Louis was a mess of tears and snot.

“There’s never,” Louis choked on his words, unable to push them past his gasping breaths. Harry rubbed circles into his back, muttering ‘breath baby’ into his neck.

“There’s never been anyone else.” He finally managed through hiccups and shakes.

And then they were kissing again, clinging to the moment that felt like it could shatter at any second. The kiss had no finesse, it wasn’t pretty in any way. Their teeth clashed and their lips were wet and salty, but it was home and it was love and it was the only thing keeping Louis from splitting at the seams.

\---

The kiss had finally broken, and Louis’ tears had finally subsided. Now he found himself on the sofa in the living room, curled into the corner, as Harry came into the room carrying a tray of tea and toast. Louis didn’t even know they owned a tea tray, but that wasn’t what he needed to worry about just now. Not when he had been kissing Harry barely five minutes earlier.

“Here you go, love. A cuppa and some toast will make you feel better. Then we can talk.” Harry’s voice was soothing as he settled onto the sofa beside Louis, far closer than he needed to be. They sat in silence for a while, sipping tea and eating toast that dripped with butter and just a scrape of marmite. Harry still managed to make toast perfectly to Louis’ specifications even after all this time.

Louis found his hand idly tracing the shape of the anchor on Harry’s wrist, running over and over the spot where Harry’s declaration he wouldn’t change once lay.

“Do you remember Glastonbury?” He asked, never lifting his eyes from the inked lines.

“Course I do, Louis. How could I ever forget?” Harry’s voice was thick with emotion. Louis shrugged slightly at his answer, not wanting to ever assume it all meant as much to Harry as it had to him.

“Remember when we got lost? Getting back to our tents from shangri-la? It was the first night there and we didn’t realise the bottom west corner only had one way in and out, thought we could cut through.” Louis wasn’t sure why that particular moment had occurred to him right now, something about arguing with Harry drawing him back to their joking argument about Harry’s sense of direction as Louis insisted on a piggy back through the mud.

“That girl told us to follow the lights, that they’d guide us home,” Harry chuckled, “and then I started singing Coldplay and you nearly fell off my back laughing so hard.”

“You almost dropped me in the mud, you fucker.” Louis cackled, remembering how his one pair of shorts for the weekend had nearly ended up ruined on the first evening.

“I didn’t fix you though, did I?” Harry muttered. “I broke it all instead. I’m so sorry Lou, I’ll never forgive myself for that.” The sudden change in tone sobered Louis, sending his eyes back down to where his hands clasped his tea, insecure in the situation all over again.

“You never had to fix me. You just had to be there," he whispered.

“I’m here now.” Harry’s voice was just as low and quiet.

“For how long? I can’t do that again, and I can’t stay hidden for the rest of my life, but I clearly can’t stay away from you either.” The tears fell again, though less dramatically this time, and Harry reached over to brush them away with the pad of his thumb.

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t the only thing I wanted. I don’t want to be in the closet for the rest of my life, Lou. I just need to establish myself.” Harry sounded so upset with himself, so disappointed in his own words, like it wasn’t enough.

“What happens if someone asks about me? What happens if someone asks if you are dating someone? I don’t think I could cope if you denied my existence.” Louis was putting his heart in Harry’s hands and asking him nicely if he would stab it, he wondered if Harry knew how important this was.

“I won’t deny you. I swear. If I am asked outright I won’t lie. You know I can’t come out right away but I’m making a plan with my team. There will be no more stories linking me to women, they’ve agreed that already. It won’t be forever Lou.” Harry was plaintive as he rubbed the promise of what he was saying into Louis’ hands.

“You swear? Harry, I promise you if you break my heart again I will cut your fucking balls off and feed them to the cat at number 10.” Harry laughed lowly at Louis’ words, leaning in to place their foreheads together.

“I swear on everything that means anything to me, I promise you I won't leave again. I can’t. I can’t stay away from you, now that you're in my life again, darling, and god help me I’ve tried.”

Louis kissed Harry, tentatively, with none of the passion and hurt that had hummed through their earlier kisses. It was chaste, testing the water, checking it was ok. Harry returned the kiss in kind, melting slightly closer to Louis as he hummed into it. Their arms twined around each other and they remained close even after the kiss ended. It was a sweet kiss, one of reconciliation and promises and filled with love.

“You look exhausted Lou, you should go get some rest.” Harry finally said, after they broke apart. He seemed unsure as to where to go from sweet kisses and promises.

“Don’t go. Come and cuddle me?” There was no way Louis was letting Harry walk out the door after this conversation. No way Harry was leaving him to his treacherous brain right now. Alone he would twist Harry's words and work himself up over all the possible ways this would go wrong.

Harry’s lips pressed together into a line as he seemed to contemplate the wiseness of Louis’ request, before he finally nodded just a tiny bit and kissed Louis quickly, before taking his hand and getting off the sofa to lead them out of the room. Louis pointed out the open door that was his room and before he knew it Harry was in his room, arms wrapped around him from behind, and smelling of home. It took Louis’ breath away. Even with everything that had happened -  with all the fights and the declarations and the grenades - he had never truly thought they'd get here. Never thought he could trust Harry. He still wasn’t certain. It was going to take a lot of work from both of them, but they were here, together, and for now, that was all that mattered.

Their bodies fell together on the bed like they had never been parted, slotting into each others space. Harry’s body felt different under Louis’ hands, firmer, stronger, but it was still Harry. His love handles were still there and Louis felt a burning desire to mark them with fingertip bruises as soon as he was able. His back was still broad, his legs still long and lean. His skin still burst with goosebumps as Louis ran his fingertips over it.

Their shirts were discarded somewhere between a tangle of duvet forts and kisses, as they hid away from the world under the warmth of each other and the fluffy white cover. The light was filtered through to them in soft warm colours, but they had eyes only for each other.

Louis traced his fingers over every patch of ink, cataloguing the ones he knew so well and the new ones that he didn’t know the stories to. He kept returning to the anchor, telling their story. He bit the swallows on Harry’s collar bones, the ones that were meant to be the two of them. He tongued over the butterfly that Harry had got as a joke about Louis giving him butterflies in his tummy. He sucked a bruise so dark over “things I can” that Harry cried out with a whimper.

“Lou, please.” Harry pulled him back into a kiss, flipping them so Harry was under him, their tongues fighting a desperate needy battle as they pressed close so there was no space between them. Harry’s arms wound around his body, clinging fiercely. He could feel the hardness in Harry’s trousers as his hips canted down to meet Harry’s, a low moan ripping from both of them as the friction erred on the side of just too much. Harry felt as big as he remembered, and Louis needed to be fucking him about five years ago, but soon would do, very soon.

“Do you want me to... or do you want..?” Harry sounded so unsure, not able to voice the words fully.

“Eloquent as always.” Louis pecked kisses to Harry’s lips between his words, not wanting to be parted even for a minute. “It’s been awhile since I’ve taken.”

“Me too. About five years.” Harry’s words were a whisper, a confession, a heart breaking truth. Louis felt his heart heal a little at them however, ironic as that might be.

“Do you want to? I’ll be gentle.” Their faces were so close he couldn’t see Harry’s expression, but he felt the small nod he gave, heard the tiny murmur of assent.

Louis’ hand moved down to Harry’s jeans, unbuttoning them and pushing them down his gorgeous thighs. He was struck again by how much Harry’s body had changed. The long lean muscles flexed under him and made him want to mark them as his own. That was a plan for another time when he could bare to stop kissing Harry long enough. His own joggers followed Harry’s jeans onto the bedroom floor, and then both their boxer shorts followed suit.

Harry was naked under him for the first time in years, and Louis thought he might come at the sight before he got even close to being inside him.

“You’re so beautiful, Harry.” He watched the blush form on Harry’s cheeks, spreading down his neck and onto his chest. It just made Harry prettier.

“I love how your body’s changed, Lou.” Harry panted under him, eyes raking up and down his torso. “Your arms, fuck. Your thighs.” He paused, a sheepish smile spreading over his face, “Miss your tummy though.”

Louis smiled, remembering all the times Harry had nuzzled into the little tummy he used to have, had bitten and sucked and marked it as his own. Louis had hated it initially, but Harry’s love of his body had helped him love his own, and vice versa as Harry grew into his lanky form and played with gender identity.

“You can blame Liam for that, but also thank him for the muscles.” He swooped down and kissed Harry hard again, licking into his mouth and tasting him all over again.

“Hmm, as long as your bum is still all there I can forgive him. It is still there isn’t it? Can I check?” Harry flipped them over so Louis was on his front on the bed, Harry’s big hands palming his arse. He was laughing loudly and squirming as Harry tried to pin him down. Harry’s own laughter echoed Louis’, before they both suddenly went silent when Harry licked a broad stripe over Louis’ hole. A beat later they both moaned out loud, before Louis started giggling again at their synchronised noises.

“Is this ok? I’ve missed your arse so much, I’ve thought about eating you out so often I can’t remember quite which times were reality and which were fantasy.” Harry was pressing kisses into the meat of Louis’ bum, getting closer and closer to where Louis desperately needed him to lick, kiss, suck.

“Fuck Harry, get your mouth on me now or I will change my mind about this.” Louis’ cock was aching hard, anticipation thrumming through him, trying to rut against the bed to get some friction, anything, before Harry was pinning him down.

Harry’s tongue was hot and rough and wet as it slowly trailed from just below his balls to just shy of his hole, not giving Louis what he needed but teasing oh so close to it. Harry dragged patterns into the skin with the very tip of his tongue, before gently nipping at the wet flesh and blowing cool air over it.

Finally, when Louis thought he could take no more, Harry’s clever tongue ran lightly over Louis’ rim, tracing the puckered muscle. The pressure built as Harry sucked and kissed and massaged until Louis was loose enough for the tip of his tongue to slip inside. Louis saw stars. Entire constellations and galaxies of stars.

Harry alternated between probing as deep as he could and nipping and licking at the rim, it was sheer heaven, just as good as Louis remembered. Before long Louis felt a long slim finger pushing against the base of his balls, toying with them, before it moved closer to Harry’s mouth;the wonderful mouth that had just detached itself from him to ask for lube. It took Louis about ten seconds to work his hands to point to his bedside table drawers, and a good thirty seconds too long for Harry to grab the lube and attach himself back onto Louis’ arse.

The long finger joined Harry’s tongue in toying with Louis, slipping in easily as Harry continued to nip and lick and kiss and nuzzle at the tight muscle. The finger probed gently, almost immediately finding Louis’ prostate. It was like they had last fucked yesterday, not five years ago, and Harry still had a map in his mind of all the parts of Louis’ body that drove him utterly insane. Harry pressed, increasing the pressure ever so slightly, drawing a long groan from deep inside Louis, and bringing him to his senses somewhat.

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you, Haz?” He panted, torn between never wanting Harry to stop and wanting to be inside him again.

“I do.” Harry was muffled, not raising his lips from Louis’ arse. “Just missed your arse so much.”

One last bite to Louis’ right cheek and Harry was drawing away, pulling his delicious finger with him and leaving Louis clenching on nothing. There was a war going on within him, half of him wanting to beg with everything he had for Harry to fuck him senseless and the other half wanting to ravish his boy. And fuck. He could call Harry his boy again. That was the thought that finally gave him the motivation to turn over, to pin Harry to the bed himself, and freeze at the incredibly erotic sight of Harry’s face covered in spit and lube, where he hadn’t even tried to clean it off after being buried in Louis. Fuck.

“You look debauched.” He murmured, his voice cracking like he had been the one straining his tongue into another man’s arse. Harry just grinned dopily at him, clearly delighted that he had been able to rim Louis again.

They kissed again, deep and messy and perfect. Their hard cocks brushed together but it was background noise in Louis’ head compared to the feeling of licking into Harry's mouth, biting his lips till they were cherry red, learning all the contours of him over and over again. A niggling voice in the back of Louis’ mind tugged at him, insisting he catalogue every second, cherish every touch, lock the memories deep inside for safe-keeping  in case it all went south again. He tried not to listen, pushing the doubts away and trusting that Harry would keep his promises..

Instead he kissed every inch of Harry’s chest, worshiping the soft pale skin as he worked his way downwards. By the time he finally got his mouth around Harry’s cock he could only hum in pleasure, the weight of it feeling so right on his tongue. It struck Louis how right this whole thing felt, every touch, every kiss, every lick. It had none of the awkwardness of other people he had been with. Even the ones he had tried to date for a while, there had been a calculated thought process, always wondering where to touch or what to do next. With Harry it was like breathing, even after all this time, it just came naturally.

He grabbed the lube from the mattress and spread it over his fingers, before pressing gentle pressure right where Harry needed him the most. The noises his boy made were like a classical symphony, with Louis as the conductor drawing each beautiful noise from him with careful movements of his hand. He slipped one finger in, marvelling at how incredibly tight and warm Harry was. Slowly he started to move, gently easing at the muscle, loosening Harry minutely with each caress.

He kept his finger still as he moved back up to Harry’s nipples, sucking and biting at them until they were red and puffy. Harry begged, pleading with Louis for more, always more. Louis couldn’t resist his boy and slipped in a second finger, gently scissoring them open to loosen Harry further. He kissed back down, mouthing at Harry’s hard cock before he tongued over his balls, lathing the soft skin with long licks. When he took one into his mouth and hummed Harry jolted on the bed, nearly dislodging Louis’ fingers. His free hand pushed down onto Harry’s right hip, holding him down, finally getting to knead and mark those delicious love handles.

A third finger eventually joined the first two, lots of lube and tucked carefully in close to not hurt Harry.

“I’m not made of glass, Lou.” Harry muttered, still grinning like the cat that got the cream. Louis frowned at him reproachfully.

“I’m not gonna let you get hurt. Don’t rush me.”

Harry just hummed, still smiling but wriggling his hips as much as he could, trying to fuck himself back onto Louis’ fingers. It was one of the hottest things Louis had ever seen, this boy who was utterly fucked out before he even got touched just from eating Louis out, and now he was fucking himself on Louis’ hand, no self control, no shame. It was a thing of beauty.

Louis couldn’t hold out any longer, the last shred of his own self control going out the window at the sight of Harry. He grabbed a condom and quickly put it on, ignoring the look in Harry’s eyes that was a reminder they didn’t use to need that step. More lube on Harry and more on himself, quick strokes up and down his length as he hissed at the pressure. Finally his cock was at Harry’s entrance, snubbing against his rim.

He pushed in gently, slowly, getting halfway there before Harry pushed himself back down and Louis bottomed out with a loud moan. That hadn’t been part of the plan, but it gave him yet another excuse to hold Harry down by the hips, to leave possessive marks upon him.

As they started to move together Harry wound his arms around Louis’ neck, pulling him closer. They kissed, hot and needy and loving as their bodies ground out a rhythm that was as natural as their heartbeats. There wasn’t an inch of space between them, Harry’s hard cock digging into both their stomachs. It was intimate and quiet and close, and it was everything Louis could have possibly dreamed of. Had dreamed of.

As Louis careened closer and closer to the edge, he lifted himself just enough to be able to wrap his hand around Harry’s length, pulling him to the edge with Louis, wanting to jump off together. Before long they were freefalling, wrapped in each other’s arms, catching each other at the bottom as they landed in a pile of sweaty boy and tangled limbs.

\---

He woke to an empty bed and an immediate sinking feeling of panic. His ears were ringing with the blood now pumping fast through his veins, searching for an outlet, fight or flight. It took a good three minutes for the ringing to subside and his breathing to calm down enough that he could pick up noises down the hall. The dodgy tap in the bathroom was singing it’s song, screeching as the hot water passed through. His heart rate slowed, Harry hadn’t left him, not yet anyway.

He collapsed back onto the pillow just as Harry came into the room, freshened up and bearing two mugs of tea. Louis couldn’t control the smile that spread across his face, and he didn’t even try. Harry sat beside him, gently depositing the mugs on the bedside table before tracing his fingers over the crinkles at the side of Louis’s eyes and kissing them softly.

“I’ve missed that smile, the real one that makes your eyes almost shut.” Louis hummed shyly in response, feeling himself blushing, which was so unlike him it just made him blush more.

“Thought you’d left me.” He mumbled into Harry’s neck, pressing kisses into the pulse point.

“Not happening.” Harry smiled fondly at him as he passed over the tea. Harry hadn’t got much better at making tea over the years, but in that moment Louis really didn’t care.

\---

An hour later Harry had run to the shops and come back ladened with bacon, eggs, sourdough bread, mushrooms and a huge bag of watercress and other salad items Louis couldn’t identify. In record time Harry had whipped up a brunch worthy of a king, and they were sat next to each other at the kitchen table, elbows knocking as they sipped from large mugs of tea.

There was a slight awkwardness between them that had settled in the time between getting out of bed and eating brunch. Louis couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was, but it terrified him. The thought of this going badly was sitting at the back of his mind at all times, edging into the forefront of his consciousness.

Harry’s hand edged over the table, covering Louis’ smaller one completely, thumbing circles over Louis’ skin. The worries receded almost immediately, Harry’s touch bringing comfort and reassurance. It would be ok. They’d fight for each other, for the love they had found at 18 and had fought so hard for, for the love that had been stolen from them by society, by ambition, by Harry’s family and their expectations.

The lips on his neck were soft and gentle, warm and dry. Goosebumps rose on his skin at every touch. Before long, Harry was sucking on his earlobe, running his tongue over the sensitive skin there and breathing heavily into the short hairs behind his ear. It went straight to Louis’ cock, like a line of arousal through his chest, heart, stomach, into his crotch. Heat pooling there. He arched his neck, giving Harry more access as Harry sucked marks of possession into his skin. He was so absorbed in the sensations that he didn’t even hear the door open to announce Liam’s return home.

“Umm” Liam coughed loudly, as he walked into the kitchen. His view must have been highly compromising, Harry curled around Louis kissing and sucking his neck, Louis moaning appreciatively and squirming closer begging for more contact. Louis spun around, dislodging Harry despite every cell in his body crying out for his touch.

“Hi Li,” he smirked, “so, we made up, umm, obviously.”

“I can see that.” Liam was blushing profusely. “I’m, uh, just going to be in my room.”

Harry and Louis burst into giggles as soon as Liam had left the kitchen, curling back into each other like magnets.

“Bedroom?” Harry suggested through his giggles.

“Hmm, how boring, I was about to lay you out on this table and take you apart.” Harry’s laughter died at Louis’ words, eyes blowing black with arousal. He stared at Louis, mouth parted obscenely, tongue flicking out to lick along the bottom lip. Louis wanted so badly to follow through on his words.

“Sadly, Liam would kill me, so bedroom it is.” Disappointment was clear in Louis’ voice, as he took Harry’s hand and dragged him bodily towards his room.

As soon as they were through the door he spun Harry around and pressed him to the wall, using all of his smaller body to cover Harry’s. Their lips crashed hard against each other, moulding together perfectly like they always had. He grabbed Harry’s wrists and held them together above his head with one hand, the other trailing down to trace all of the tattoos that littered his biceps.

Harry’s hips stuttered, pushing out to meet Louis’, craving contact, friction. Louis’ free hand pushed them back into the wall before he crashed his own hips forward to hold Harry there.

“Stay still. Be good.” Louis’ voice was shot, an octave deeper than normal and laced with arousal. He didn’t even think about falling back into an old dynamic they had played with long ago, not until Harry’s breath caught at his words and he went deliciously pliant against Louis’ body.

“Gonna be good for me? Gonna let me tell you what to do, hmm, Haz? Gonna be mine?” He moaned into Harry’s mouth, catching his bottom lip and biting down at the end of each question.

There was a tiny voice at the back of Louis’ mind, telling him this was too much, too soon, but it was drowned out by Harry moaning a long, needy ‘Daddy’ into his mouth. How could he be expected to be rational in the face of that, in the face of being able to play that role that he hadn’t even touched on in the past five years?

“Fuck, Harry. You’re so fucking obscene.” Louis bit down onto Harry’s collarbone, grounding himself. The voice at the back of his mind was tugging again, warning him of something. “I want this, I really do. I want to be that for you, for you to be good for me. But not yet. We need to be us first, yeah?” His eyes met Harry’s, pleading for him to not think Louis didn’t need this just as much as Harry did. Harry smiled, soft and private, pulling his arms down easily to wrap around Louis.

“Just us.” Harry pressed the words into Louis’ neck, kisses punctuating his point. The dynamic shifted in an instant, becoming soft and needy and emotionally charged, the two of them both seeking a deeper connection than they had been toying with only seconds earlier.

They fell to the bed in a tangle of limbs, gentle touches and chaste kisses.

\---

Louis was on his third cup of tea of the morning, and was still struggling to keep the grin from his face whenever his co-workers asked how his weekend had gone. How on earth do you say ‘ _well I got back together with my ex and the love of my life, and oh, by the way he’s one of the new MPs, the one you’ve all been saying is well fit_ ’? Instead he caught himself humming along to the awful music his colleague Nick was playing from the next desk, mentally kicking himself when he recognized the song.

“Nicholas, do you have to be _such_ New Labour trash?” Louis sincerely hoped that his moaning would make up for the fact someone might have actually heard him humming that song.

“Well we are, in fact, working for New Labour, _Lewis_.” Nick smirked back over, turning up the music and spinning on his chair as he belted out the lyrics to the chorus. “ _Things, can only get better, they can only get better, now I’ve found you._ ” On ‘you’ he decided to jump out of his chair and point at Louis, everyone around them collapsing into fits of laughter. Louis would kill Nick Grimshaw one of these days.

“Honestly, trash.” Louis turned back to his computer, trying desperately to keep a straight face. Normally he could draw on his sullen inner reserves to help him with such matters, but they seemed to have vanished after his weekend with Harry.

“If it’s good enough for our Tony, it’s good enough for me, Tomlinson.” Nick was such a pompous arse, Louis was going to disown him one of these days. If only they hadn’t been friends for over three years.

“You’d set your computer background to Tony if you thought you could get away with it. The world has moved on and so must we, Nick.” Louis hoped his tone was sufficiently patronising.

“Oooh, now there’s a great idea! What photo do you think I should use? Just Tony or one with Cherie? Decisions, decisions.” Nick was google searching photos as he spoke, a wall of Tony Blair flashing over his computer screen. “Oh, maybe this one with Noel Gallagher, you know I love a bit of britpop.”

Louis decided that tuning Nick out was probably the best option for his mental health, as he berated himself for having released the monster that was his friend’s obsession with their former leader. He tried to concentrate on the emails he was sending, the research he had to have done for the Minister by tomorrow, but it was all background noise against a constant hum of _harryharryharry_.

Their weekend had been perfect, well, after they had talked and fallen into bed together anyway. They had fucked and kissed and cuddled and laughed. Harry had made food and Louis had taken over tea making duties, and they had scandalised Liam with the noises they had made. Louis was still proud of himself for not falling back into the kinks they had played around with when they were younger. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go back there, it was more that this was too important to become just about sex, and somehow playing like that made it more sex focused and less about them reconnecting. It made sense in his head anyway. Soon they would have a talk about what they both wanted and do it properly, but for now a good dose of vanilla sex and cuddles was just what the doctor ordered.

Louis’ phone buzzed just as he looked up to see Nick had settled on a photo and emblazoned it across his computer screen. The notification said ‘Harry bloody Styles’, Louis hadn’t got round to changing it yet.

**Hey, I know I saw you 12 hours ago but do you fancy getting lunch?**

Louis couldn’t contain the smile that spread over his face, one that alerted Nick to the fact some juicy gossip was happening right in front of his face, and Nick lived for political gossip.

“Who are you getting messages from, Mr Cheshire Cat?” Louis smiled harder, the irony of the nickname not lost given who he was texting.

“None of your beeswax, Grimshaw.” He sing-songed back at Nick, thumbing open the text to reply as he did.

“Fine! Be like that!” Nick threw his hands up dramatically, putting on a show of being hurt. “We’ve only been friends for years, but I see how it is.” Louis giggled, trying to concentrate on both replying and placating Nick all at the same time.

“I’ll tell you soon, it’s just sort of new and a bit delicate? I need to be sure before I go blabbing my mouth.” Louis sipped on his tea as he put the phone down, waiting to reply until Nick was happy.

“Is it someone from conference? I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to be the one who stayed behind. I always miss the gossip.” Nick whined, the pout on his face almost endearing.

“It’s your choice not to come. You volunteer, remember? All ‘I’m Nick Grimshaw and I grew up round there and I can’t imagine having any fun in Blackpool as an adult.’” Louis was pretty proud of his Nick impression, putting on his best Manchester accent and standing on his tip toes.

“Whatever, wanker. You’ve still not answered the bloody question.”

“Hmm. Not from conference, no. But he was there.” Louis grinned at the look on Nick’s face.

“Alright Cryptic Chris, be like that. See if I care. I won’t be here to cry on if it all goes wrong.” Nick turned away so sharply he didn’t see Louis’ face fall and realise how close to the bone that remark hit.

Louis turned back to his phone where another notification indicated a new text.

**Too eager? Sorry Lou, I’ll give you space.**

_Don’t be silly, was just talking to Nick about something. free at 1, how about we walk up to Charing Cross and get mexican?_

**Sounds perfect. meet you outside your building?**

_Can’t wait xxx_

\---

Lunch was strange. Louis wasn’t quite sure how to be with Harry now that they were not enemies but while they also couldn’t be out as boyfriends together. He felt oddly stilted at first, like he was at a job interview, and it took Harry gently putting his hand innocently on the base of Louis’ spine for a second for the tension to ease out of him.

Even then, not being able to kiss, to touch, was killing him. There was a moment where Harry had salsa on his chin and Louis wanted to reach out and wipe it away so much, but the gesture felt too intimate, too loaded. They really needed to work out how to spend time together as a closeted couple. Louis was out of practice and Harry seemed to be struggling just as much.

“Hate not being able to touch you.” Harry muttered, his fingers edging closer to Louis’ over the table until they were resting beside each other, so close Louis could feel the warmth of his skin.

“Me too,” Louis pitched his voice low, hoping only Harry would hear it, “I’ll make up for it later.”

Harry’s eyebrows raised as his cheeks blushed beautifully, mouth opening to respond before he closed it again and just shook his head fondly.

Their hands remained close throughout the rest of lunch, conversation drifting between present day politics and friends they had known at university. The past five years where they hadn’t been in each others lives was like no man’s land, a topic not to be broached but sitting between them solidly. Louis knew it had to go on the list of things-to-talk-about-with-Harry-soon, a list that seemed to grow longer with each minute.

\---

Nick had just deposited something that claimed to be coffee on Louis’ desk, and was unwinding a long red scarf from around his neck, when the email notification came through. _Boo found love! - New post on Singlegayinlondon._

“Oh god.” Louis groaned under his breath, not quite sure he wanted to open the notification. It had been a long week. Work was insane, Nick had been trying new Starbucks ‘fall’ flavours on him every day, and he hadn’t seen Harry since lunch on Monday. It was Thursday now.

“Oh god, what?” Nick, as always, was attuned to any and all possible gossip.

“Oh nothing. Just can’t believe you are making me drink this crap. Pumpkin spice? Really? I’ve never eaten pumpkin pie in my life and neither have you.” Louis hoped his griping was realistic. In reality he didn’t give a fuck what flavour coffee Nick bought him but it was a good ploy.

“Alright, grumpy pants. A man tries to do something nice and buy his friend a coffee and he just gets abuse.” Nick huffed as he settled into his own desk with his own sugary creamy concoction.

Louis pulled up the blog post, holding his breath as he started to read.

 

> _Hi friends!_
> 
> _I have wonderful news and it’s not even about me! Boo, my housemate, has reconnected with the love of his life (and Mr Z’s housemate) Curly! I walked in on them the other day (nothing too compromising thankfully) after we all went to watch the fireworks together the other day and they both disappeared after. How romantic right?_
> 
> _My Z caught them holding hands at the fireworks but they didn’t know, and then they both kept trying to surreptitiously look at each other in the pub after. Boo sneaked off as we left the pub and Curly jumped off the tube as soon as he noticed and went after him. I tried to go after him cause I wasn’t sure what was going on, but the doors closed and Z and Irish stopped me from going after him. Two days later they are curled around each other in the kitchen, looking utterly fucked out, and Boo hasn’t stopped smiling since!_
> 
> _Long term readers will know I’ve been worried about Boo for years after he got his heart broken and never seemed to date much, and yes, it’s the boy who broke his heart, but they’ve been circling each other for months now and I’m just so happy they finally got there. Just call me an old romantic!_
> 
> __ _In my love life, Z is still wonderful, passionate and hot as fuck, so I am still happily not single but very much gay in London. The sex just keeps getting better. With Curly staying at mine and Boo’s all weekend we had the place to ourselves and let me tell you it got loud, and bitey, and a bit spanky too. Oooh la la! I’m a lucky boy!_
> 
> __ _Love you all,_
> 
> _More soon_
> 
> _(not so) SGIL x_
> 
> _**  
>   
>  ** _

Louis shook his head fondly at the latest update. Honestly Liam seemed to get more camp every time.

“Have you heard the goss?” Nick called over the divider between their desks. “Single gay in London’s housemate has a boyfriend.” Nick looked far more devastated than Louis thought was appropriate given that he was Boo and he and Nick were a match made in hell, but he played along.

“Oh no!” He grinned “I’m sorry for your loss Nicholas. I was sure that one day you would have dated enough of the London gay scene to have come across him by chance, even if no one ever worked out who they are.” Nick was rolling his eyes at Louis’ insinuations.

“Look, _Lewis_ , just because you have the dating life of a particularly pious monk, it doesn’t mean the rest of us have to follow suit.”

“Not so pious right now, although I have been calling for God a lot come to think of it.” Louis tried to keep his face straight but couldn’t control his smirk as realisation of what he had just said dawned on Nick’s face.

“Well colour me scandalised. Louis Tomlinson, I need all the gossip within a week or I will be calling an intervention.” Nick spun around in his chair, giving Louis his best stern look, which just seemed to bring Louis closer to laughter.

“We’ll see Grimshaw. I need to talk a few things through with him first.”

“At least it’s still a him. I was worried that all this personality change might have led to you deserting me for the other side, and that would be frankly depressing.”

“As if. Now get back to work, you slacker.” Louis couldn’t help laughing quietly to himself as he tried to focus back on the spreadsheet in front of him. Only a few more hours of work and he could be in Harry’s arms again.

\---

“Where did you go after the fireworks, H?” They were sat at dinner, a small Eritrean place near Louis’ flat, mopping up sauce with flatbread.

“Hmm?” Harry looked confused, pushing his curls back out of his face as he peered up at Louis from where he was bent over their shared dish.

“After the fireworks, umm. Li’s blog said you left them straight after I left, but you didn’t show up at mine ‘til the next morning. I just wondered where you’d gone.” Louis felt sheepish, like he’d been spying on Harry somehow by reading Liam’s words.

“First of all, Liam has a blog? You need to explain. But I went for a walk. I basically walked all night. I went down to the canal, sat and thought, trying to work out if I could keep the promises I ended up making.” Harry paused, sipping from his beer quickly before he continued.

“It wasn’t some hungover spur of the moment thing, Lou. I don’t want you to think it was. I nearly froze my balls off and had to go into some dodgy cafe to get a cup of tea at about four am just to stop myself dying of the cold.”

“You should have woken me. My poor boy.” Louis rubbed Harry’s hands subconsciously, like he could soothe away the cold that had settled there the week before.

“I needed to be one hundred percent before I came to you though. I couldn’t live with myself if I ever hurt you again.” Harry pressed a kiss onto Louis’ nose as he spoke, the almost empty restaurant on a quiet back road in East London giving them the anonymity to act like a real couple for once.

“I love you.” It was all Louis could say, all the other words in his mind dying in his throat as the threat of tears replaced them.

“I love you too. Now, let’s go for a walk, yeah? You can tell me all about Liam’s blog.” Harry motioned for the bill, quickly laying down his card before Louis could talk him into splitting it.

They pulled on heavy coats, warm scarves, gloves, and beanie hats. The layers and the darkness of the autumnal evening allowing to hold hands and walk closely as they wandered through Victoria Park. The park was open and vast, darkness lying over it like a veil. There was an early frost on the grass, the moonlight catching it and turning it into a carpet of diamonds.

They walked and talked for hours, before returning to Louis’ flat with red noses and chapped lips, and tumbling into bed with hot chocolate and kisses.

\---

The next few weeks were a blur of kisses and cuddles and sex. There had been a great deal of very passionate and very loud sex, so much so that Liam had offered them the house to themselves for the weekend, which really was no great loss to him. Louis had promised to not fuck in the public areas of the flat as recompense, but he didn’t exactly intend on sticking to that promise.

Harry had been in Manchester for much of the week, meeting with his local party, talking to his constituents, and generally not being with Louis, but now he was on his way home. That meant Louis was running around the flat with a duster trying desperately to make the place look presentable, but not sure exactly what one did with a duster. He seemed to just be moving the dirt around, which really couldn’t be the point.

There was wine breathing on the table although, again, Louis wasn’t entirely sure why it needed to breath, and take away food coming from deliveroo in the next hour. All he needed to do was change out of the joggers and t-shirt he had thrown on when he got in from work and Louis would be ready. That’s why the doorbell ringing at just that moment caused Louis to let out a little high pitched moan of frustration.

“You’re early, Styles.” Louis greeted Harry with a kiss as he tugged him into the hall and shut the door. “I’ve not even got changed.”

“Hmmm, I’d want you in whatever state you come in. And I got a cab, couldn’t face the bus when it meant longer away from you.” Harry was tearing at the hem of the t-shirt Louis wore, frantic to get his hands on skin. Louis spun him into the wall, pinning Harry’s hands to his sides as he kissed him.

“Be good. We have food coming.” Louis cupped the bulge in Harry’s trousers, rubbing over it, teasing mercilessly seeing he wouldn’t be giving his boyfriend relief any time soon.

“Fuck food.” Harry’s voice was shot, low and gruff and needy. “I want you, want to eat you Lou.”

“Patience is a virtue, _Minister_.” Louis knew he was being a horrible tease, but it was worth it to see the look on Harry’s face, the blown out pupils paired with bitten lips and utter frustration.

One last kiss against the wall and he was tugging Harry into the kitchen, pouring wine and standing nonchalantly propped against the counter as he sipped. Harry sunk into a chair, glass clutched in his hand and glare on his face. Louis smirked as Harry rearranged himself in his jeans, before walking over to him and taking his glass.

“Poor baby, do you want me to kiss it better?” He slung his legs over Harry so he was sitting in his boyfriend’s lap, fingers lightly tracing the pout that was stubbornly refusing to leave Harry’s face.

“Why, Louis? Why is food coming? Why are you not kissing me? Why are we not in bed?” Harry whined and as always it sounded quite strange to hear Harry whine, the contrast with his deep voice seeming to add to the sensation of his childishness, so at odds with his everyday persona.

“Oh pet, it’ll be here soon, and then Daddy will take care of you.” Harry gasped as Louis said the word Daddy, melting into his arms. The moan that escaped Harry’s lips was so needy and delicious that it took every reserve of Louis’ willpower to not cancel dinner and cart Harry off to bed.

“Now be good, or Daddy will have to punish you.” Louis hissed the words into Harry’s ear, biting his neck just below it and then lathing his tongue over the spot before climbing off Harry and back to his drink. Harry whined at the loss of contact, making grabby hands at Louis, who just looked stern in return.

“Come on, let’s go and sit in the living room while we wait. It shouldn’t be long, pet.” Louis wasn’t cruel, he knew Harry needed grounding if he was going to make it through the next hour or so, and so as soon as they were sat on the sofa he let Harry curl into him and ran his fingers through Harry’s curls. The whimpers and moans that Harry made were like a concerto to his ears. Harry looked at him with big round eyes, so turned on, seeking reassurance and love. Louis hoped that his returning look provided that for him as he pressed gentle soothing kisses into Harry’s skin and scratched at his scalp.

The food arrived and was eaten quickly, with little conversation from either of them. Harry practically had to sit on his hands between bites to stop himself squirming in his seat. Louis had ordered their favourites from The Diner, but he may as well have ordered from the crap chippy down the road for all Harry was paying attention to it. Finally, he decided he had tortured his boy enough. Food had been eaten, wine had been drunk, and it was time to reward Harry for his patience.

“Go to my room. Strip. Kneel at the end of the bed.” He looked Harry in the eye, his voice low and quiet, watching as Harry’s eyes widened and his throat bobbed. He finally seemed to kick into action, scrambling out of his chair and running to Louis’ room.

Louis set a timer, knowing his own self control was not to be relied upon in times like this. It was first time he had wanted to dominate someone in five years. Since Harry it just hadn’t seemed necessary, like the dynamic only worked for him when Harry was his sub. There had been men who had asked him to spank them, men who had wanted to spank Louis, but none of them had felt right. None of them had made his cock so hard he could hardly breathe, which was his current predicament.

Four minutes later his timer went off, just as Louis suspected he was about to wear a path into the living room carpet with his pacing. The short walk to the bedroom was difficult with how hard his cock pressed against his stomach, caught under the band of his joggers.

Harry’s a vision. Knees spread, back rod straight, head bowed. His arms were crossed behind him, just over his pert arse, and his curls fell into his face. And his face. What a picture. Eyes softly shut, utter serenity on his features, pouty lips jutting out and just begging to be kissed. Louis sends a silent ‘thank you’ out to the voting public of Salford and Eccles for bringing this man back into his life again.

“Fuck, baby.” Louis pushed the words out under his breath, Harry blushing but not looking up, keeping his eyes on one spot in front of him. “So good for Daddy aren’t you?” Still no response, short of a tiny inclination of his head. Louis bent down behind him to whisper in his ear.

“You can use your words, H.” Harry melted back into his lap as soon as he realised Louis was close, tension going out of his muscles almost instantly. As he fell back Louis got a perfect view of Harry’s rock hard cock as it bobbed slightly. It was red and angry, pre-come already dripping from the head. Louis wanted nothing more than to swallow it and drink his come, but he knew that wasn’t what Harry wanted, and he so badly needed to give his boy everything he wanted.

He fisted his hand into Harry’s curls, pulling his head further back so their mouths could meet in a filthy kiss. Harry tasted of the wine they had been drinking earlier, smelled of his shampoo and of home. It was the hottest thing Louis could possibly imagine. For five long years he had imagined his boy back in his bedroom, and now he had him, pliant, eager and panting beneath him. It was a dream come true.

“On the bed, sweetheart.” Louis pushed Harry up and out of his lap, towards the soft white duvet. Outside it had started to rain; the kind of rain storms that London only really manages in autumn. In winter the rain is cold and drizzly and unrelenting, in spring it’s fresh and short showers, in summer it’s unexpected and cooling, but in autumn it’s hard and pounding, washing away the dirt of the city with it’s power. It hammered on the window pain, beating out the same rhythm as Louis’ pounding heart. He took a moment to look out into the darkness, revelling in the warmth and light in the room, revelling in having Harry here. They’d made it, they were going to be ok.

“Daddy.” Harry was spread eagled on the bed, mewling at the lack of contact from Louis. Louis smiled at him wickedly, knowing that soon he would be mewling for altogether other reasons. He stripped quickly, not even attempting to put on a show. Harry would need him close soon, if the past was anything to go by, and he wasn’t about to let him down.

Louis climbed on top, plastering their bodies together and pushing his hips down relentlessly into Harry’s. Lips crashed, pulling moans from each other as Louis licked into Harry’s mouth. He wanted to tell Harry how perfect he was, how they fit so well together, but that would come later when things were soft and loving.

Louis pushed off, knowing that he needed to stop before he came from just the thought of Harry and a few touches. Kneeling beside his boy he took in the beautiful sight as he trailed his fingers over Harry’s torso. He stopped at a puffy nipple, flicking it lightly, then pinching. The way Harry arched his back into Louis’ touch was nothing short of pornographic. Louis had no choice but to bend down and suck the nipple into his mouth, rolling it around his tongue as he listened to Harry pant and moan below him.

“Stay still baby, Daddy’s going to take care of you, yeah?” He pushed Harry’s hands above him, wrapping the long fingers around the headboard, squeezing once in an attempt to say ‘stay still’.

“Yes, Lou, Daddy, want. I want to be good.” Harry panted incoherently, such a contrast to the man Louis had sparred with a few months ago. It made it all the sweeter, knowing how Harry was capable of verbally dressing him down when they argued, and yet would lie submissively for him, taking everything Louis gave.

Louis slung his leg over Harry, shifting up the bed until his cock was in Harry’s face. Harry looked at him with those big doe eyes, not opening his mouth or responding until he was told to but almost quivering with the desire to get his mouth on Louis.

“Open up, pet.” Louis tapped his cock against Harry’s plush lips as he spoke, before Harry’s perfect pink tongue darted out of his mouth and licked the underside of Louis’ head. The groan Louis let out could probably be heard miles away. He fed his aching cock into Harry’s wide open mouth, revelling in the warmth and softness he found. Harry was so good at this, barely batting an eyelid as Louis pushed more and more of himself in past his throat, another moan ripped from him as he felt his boy swallow around his cock.

His hand fell to Harry’s face, thumb pushing into the hollow of Harry’s cheek to feel the fullness of his own cock in Harry’s mouth. It was intoxicating, like he’d taken a sip of the finest champagne.

“Good boy, take it deep Harry. Show me what you can do.” Louis’ voice wavered as Harry followed his instructions to the letter, swallowing around his cock, milking it for all he was worth. Louis wanted nothing more than to stay buried in his boy’s throat all evening, but he had other plans, ones that didn’t involve coming quite so soon.

Pulling out he watched Harry’s tongue follow after him, trying to catch every last second that he was allowed to touch, to lick. It was difficult to not give in and give Harry back his cock and Louis had to get fully off the bed to control himself.

“Now baby, I’m going to suck you, but you aren’t allowed to come, ok?” His voice fell back into stern as he spoke, much needed control over the situation returning to him now that he was three feet away from Harry’s talented mouth.

“Yes, please, please Daddy.” Harry’s voice cracked, even deeper than normal. Louis needed more than that though.

“Do you understand, H? What’s going to happen and what are you expressly not allowed to do?”

“You... you’re going to suck me. I’m not allowed to come. I have to be good. Want to be good.” He wailed the last word, hips bucking up against thin air as he sought friction.

“Good boy. Don’t forget. If you get too close then tell me, but it’s your responsibility to not come.” Louis kneeled back on the bed between Harry’s legs, biting up the inside of his thighs until he reached the junction at Harry’s hip. He sucked a dark purple mark there, claiming Harry as his own. When he finally got his mouth on Harry’s cock the whimper his boy gave was so beautiful, his hips shooting up every so slightly before he controlled himself. Louis pulled off, making Harry whine.

“Good boy. Keep still and let Daddy take care of you.” He dove back down, taking all of Harry down his throat at once, watching through heavily lidded eyes as Harry shook and whimpered under him, trying to hard to control his traitorous muscles.

Louis trailed his teeth over the sensitive underside of Harry’s cock as he drew back up to swirl his tongue around the head, finally taking the base in one hand so he could tease more effectively. He varied the pressure of his hand, twisting it round using his spit and Harry’s pre-come as lube. Taking Harry back in his mouth he sucked and swirled and moaned around his cock, watching with delight as his ministrations brought his boy closer and closer to the edge. A part of him hoped Harry would fail so he could punish him, but the more sensible part of him said that on their first time back in this dynamic that wasn’t wise.

It didn’t take long for Harry to be wound up like a top, wriggling and panting and gasping out words that made little sense in between a litany of ‘Lou’ and ‘Daddy’. Every muscle was taut, jumping under his skin in a way that Louis could watch for days. Harry was a work of art at the best of times. Photos of submissive Harry on edge should hang in the finest galleries.

“‘M close. Daddy, stop, please, close, don’t want to be bad.” Harry was chanting the words under his breath, every inch of his willpower focused on not coming. Louis wasn’t going to give in to him that quickly though. He may not be planning on punishing Harry tonight but he wasn’t going to make it too easy for him either. Instead, he removed his hand and swallowed Harry all the way back down, clenching his throat around Harry’s cock. The response was beautiful, a shout strangled in Harry’s throat as all of his muscles clenched and his balls drew tight against his body. Hands fisted the duvet below them as he sobbed for release, begging and cursing Louis all in the same breath.

Louis pulled off leaving Harry bucking up against nothing again; the whimpers and moans slowing in time with his pitiful thrusts.

“How are you baby? Remember the colours we discussed before?” They had renegotiated boundaries when they had talked about waiting for this, but Louis suddenly remembered he hadn’t reminded Harry.

“Green Daddy, so green.” Green was good, and Louis felt his muscles relax at Harry’s words.

“Remember to tell me if it changes, yes? Yellow to take a break, Red to stop.” Harry opened his eyes and rolled them at Louis, the little shit.

“Yes Daddy. Please can you touch me now?” Harry begged, which made Louis splutter. Harry had become more demanding in his submissiveness it seemed, definitely something he could get on board with. He just wasn’t about to give in quite yet.

“No baby, not quite yet. Open your eyes, watch me.” Louis was still kneeling between Harry’s legs, but now he took his own cock in his hand and slowly drew up and down the length, biting his lip coyly as he met Harry’s dark gaze.

“Daddy,” There was a warning in Harry’s voice, and it sent a shiver up Louis’ spine. Knowing he had to work that much harder for Harry to give him control made it all the sweeter when he finally submitted fully.

“Be good, pet. You’ll get taken care of soon, but when you demand I touch you then you obviously need a lesson in patience.” Louis gasped the words out as he stroked himself, head thrown back, putting on a show for Harry.

“Didn’t demand, Daddy, I begged.” Harry pouted, wriggling and squirming where he still hadn’t removed his hands from the headboard.

“Don’t argue, baby. If you do I might just come and not let you touch me at all.” Harry gasped at the suggestion, morphing his face into what Louis suspected Harry thought was a contrite expression. He just looked desperate in reality.

Harry stared at him hungrily, not moving a muscle as he tried to prove how good he could be. Louis built up a rhythm stroking his cock, dragging lightly over the skin but not grasping too hard, not wanting to actually come from this. When it got to the point where Harry looked like he might actually kill Louis he finally relented, grabbing lube and a condom from the bedside table before he settled back on the bed.

Harry’s eyes went wide and darker than ever when, instead of pushing his fingers into Harry, Louis slowly and methodically started to open himself up instead. Louis quirked an eyebrow at him in question, challenging him to complain. Harry didn’t, naturally, and Louis felt that zip of power down his spine again.

He bent over, giving Harry a perfect view of what Louis was doing to himself, three fingers deep now, probing for his own prostate. He could hear Harry panting behind him, could see his open mouth forming words that were never vocalised if he craned his neck. With one final tug to his cock Louis straddled his boy, slipping the condom on and adding more lube.

“Now be good. No fucking up until I tell you, you take what I say, yes?” Louis could hear the shake in his voice but hoped Harry was too far gone to hear it.

“Yes Daddy. No fucking up, promise. ‘M a good boy.” Harry looked broken, and Louis couldn’t help himself, having to bend down and kiss the perfect boy beneath him.

“You are baby, such a good boy for me. So good for Daddy.” He whined as Harry’s cock pressed against his hole, the stretch slight but enough to ping all his nerve endings. Sitting down he took Harry inside him in one movement, watching the pretty way Harry’s mouth fell open and his eyes rolled back.

Louis set a punishing pace, sliding up and down on Harry’s cock until his thighs burned. He shifted slightly, searching for the angle that would lead to Harry hitting his prostate and gasped loudly when he found it, nearly losing control. The drag of Harry’s thick cock over his rim, combined with the angle, was pushing him closer to the edge than he wanted but it felt too good to stop. Instead he ground down, making Harry gasp with the sensations, needing to draw Harry to orgasm before he was willing to come himself.

“Gonna come for Daddy? You’ve got my permission, H.” Harry groaned in response, his hips moving up ever so slightly to meet Louis’ thrust. Louis slapped his hip softly, reminding him that he may have permission to come but not to fuck Louis.

“Keep still, baby. No fucking, take what you are given.” Louis slowed his pace, making it just that little bit harder for Harry to chase his release. Harry’s eyes flew open and then narrowed at the smug look on Louis’ face. Louis bent forward again and caught Harry’s bottom lip between his teeth, before licking filthily into his mouth. Harry returned it in kind, not seeming to have full control, not able to put much effort into the kiss, and they ended up just mouthing sloppily at each other.

Louis’ movements had slowed down to him merely grinding into Harry’s crotch as they kissed, and after a few minutes Harry was mewling and begging into his mouth.

“Daddy, please fuck me, please let me come, want to come so much, need to make you come, please, please please.” He continued muttering please under his breath like a prayer. Louis was so affected by him, could refuse him nothing when he was like this. He started fucking himself hard on Harry’s cock again in earnest, giving Harry what he needed to come.

Ten thrusts later and Harry was shaking under him, stomach tensed and muscles rolling as he built to his orgasm. The sight alone was almost enough to send Louis careening over the edge with him. Harry cried out Louis’ name over and over as he came, seeming to take a million years to come down from his high. Louis watched him through it all, cataloguing every facial expression, body movement and noise in case he was ever forced to give this gorgeous man up again.

When Harry had finally come down and lay pliant on the bed, Louis moved off him, causing Harry to cry out and make grabby hands at him.

“No, Daddy. Don’t stop, want to make you come too.” Harry whined, as Louis bent down to kiss his perfect boy.

“Shhh, you will. I’m so close. Open your pretty mouth.” Harry’s eyes flew open at Louis’ words, recognition dawning there as he saw Louis wanking himself over Harry’s face. His mouth fell open, tongue out, and his eyes closed automatically. Louis was so proud.

It only took a few strokes for Louis to come all over Harry’s face, long stripes coating his cheeks and chin, some managing to get into his mouth. Harry held still, knowing that Louis wouldn’t like him moving until he said so.

“It’s ok baby, you can lick it up now.” Louis’ voice was soft, full of love and wonderment at his boy. Harry closed his mouth, licking his lips, trying to reach as much of Louis come as he could. When there was no more in reach he whined pitifully, eyes opening to gaze longingly at Louis who had collapsed beside him on the bed. He hadn’t given Harry permission to let go of the bed he realised. Instead he took one finger and cleaned the come from Harry, pushing it into the other boys warm soft mouth. Harry hummed happily, love and contentment shining from his eyes.

Once most of the come was gone, he removed Harry’s hands from the headboard, gently moving them around to check his muscles were ok before folding Harry into his arms. Harry curled into him, warm and soft and perfect.

They would clean up later. For now there were cuddles to be had and praise to be given.

“So good for me baby, I can’t fucking believe I got this lucky again. So lucky to have you back.” Louis murmured into Harry’s sweaty curls, pushing them back with one hand while the other hand traced lazy circles on Harry’s back.

“S’me that got lucky.” Harry whispered quietly, before his breathing evened out and he clearly had fallen asleep. Louis sat for a long time, watching the way Harry’s chest rose and fell, watching his eyelashes flutter, watching the pout of his lips. Maybe they had both been lucky.

\---

Saturday morning dawned crisp and bright after the rain of the previous night. Harry was still curled up beside Louis, clinging onto him as he pouted in his sleep. Louis could hardly bear to get out of bed and leave him, but his bladder was fighting against his plans of curling around his boy and spooning all morning.

Five minutes later his teeth were brushed and he had slipped into the kitchen to make tea for them both. Two sugars for Harry. It didn’t hurt anymore, how he knew exactly how Harry took his tea, how he would automatically make it for him. They still had things to work on- they probably always would- but that was part of a relationship and that was ok.

When he got back to the bedroom Harry was awake, big eyes blinking up at him slowly as he sat back down on the bed.

“You ok, lovely?” Louis whispered, not wanting to break the quiet that blanketed the room.

“I’m good.” Harry grinned at him and it was like the sun. “I need a shower, but I’m so so good.”

Louis chuckled. He could use a shower himself, having been too tired last night to do anything but be Harry’s big spoon. Maybe he could negotiate morning blow jobs in the shower if he was very lucky.

“Zayn texted.” Harry broke him from thoughts of blow jobs and wet skin. “He and Liam have something to tell us apparently.” Louis and Harry both rolled their eyes and giggled at that, Liam and Zayn being the worst kept secret ever.

“Oh really? Did they want to meet?” Louis really didn’t want to leave the house all weekend if at all possible, but he supposed officially knowing about Liam’s love life was a worthy reason for getting dressed.

“Mmm, Zayn suggested lunch in the Spaniards and a walk on the Heath.” Harry was burrowing his face into Louis’ neck and mouthing his words there. It made for a beautiful distraction.

“Sounds good. Tell him we can be there for one?” Louis downed the rest of his tea before pulling needily at Harry’s hand. “But now I need a shower, and you need to join me.”

Harry waggled his eyebrows at Louis suggestively, quickly firing off a text before he acquiesced and followed Louis to the bathroom.

\---

The Spaniards was busy as always. A few families with dogs optimistically tried to get the outdoor heaters to work so they could sit in the beer garden, but it was really too cold for that. Inside there was a queue of people waiting for a table, and a harassed waitress who looked like she would rather be anywhere but there. Louis gave up a silent prayer to friends who were MPs and had PAs who would call ahead when he spotted Zayn and Liam at a cozy table near an open fire.

“Oi oi lads, what do we have here? You two’re looking awfully cosy.” Louis called across the crowded pub as they approached the table, Liam and Zayn parting guiltily where they had been holding hands and whispering to each other.

“Hey Lou.” Liam greeted him sheepishly, causing Louis to laugh raucously as they sat down.

“Oh come on, we already know boys. It’s hardly a secret.” His voice was kinder, gentler, and Liam smiled fondly back at him.

“It’s not like you two have any room to talk! The sex you’ve been having for the past month has nearly bankrupted me over the cost of earplugs.” Liam poked Louis in the side, grinning at him now. Louis flicked his eyes to Harry and found his boyfriend blushing profusely as he took off his coat and scarf. He settled a hand over Harry’s thigh, squeezing reassuringly as he turned back to the table.

“Well we’ve had about five years to make up for.” He joked, squeezing again to make sure this was ok.

“Made up for a lot last night though.” Harry mused quietly, and now it was Louis’ turn to blush.

“Happy for you both.” Zayn chimed in, taking a sip of the glass of red wine that sat in front of him before pouring a glass for Harry and Louis.

“You too man, you too.” Louis wasn’t sure how exactly their group was going to cope with two closeted couples, but knowing Liam would be in the same boat as him made him breathe easier.

Lunch was delicious, a proper roast with all the trimmings. Louis poured gravy over everything as soon as it arrived, earning him an eyebrow raise from Harry who tasted everything before deciding if it needed extras. That in turn caused Louis to steal a yorkshire pudding from Harry’s plate, earning him a squawk of indignation and to lose two roast parsnips. It was so domestic that it made his heart hurt a bit.

For dessert they shared apple crumble with loads of custard, the whole table falling into companionable silence as they savoured it. Finally, their bellies were full and the bill had been payed, with a generous tip to hopefully stop any gossip about the closeness of the two MPs and their male companions. Far more famous people than Zayn and Harry ate in the pub regularly, but it wasn’t worth the risk.

Stepping away from the roaring fire and out into the crisp cold was painful, but they all wrapped up in scarves and wool coats before heading up to the heath. By the time they got there, the cozy warmth was a distant memory against wind pinked cheeks and shaking fingers. Autumn was almost ending, November about to turn into December and the run up to Christmas. The days were so short now that the sky was starting to darken already, and by the time they reached the top of Parliament hill London was lit up below them in a sea of twinkling lights. It really is one of the best views in the city, with Kentish Town and Camden directly in front of them and The City and Docklands further away marking where the Thames runs with skyscrapers and cranes.

They stood and watched for a while before wandering down onto the heath proper, walking in amongst old oak trees which stood barren, leaves all piled on the floor below them. It was slightly eery in the twilight of the late afternoon, and Louis didn’t really blame Harry when he slipped his gloved hand into his, squeezing lightly.

As they reached the ponds there were more people; walking dogs, smoking weed, drinking from cans of beer, and generally having fun. Where six months ago Louis might have begrudged them, he now felt like part of it. With Harry’s hand in his he felt invincible once again.

Before Louis knew it, the four of them had stumbled off the heath and into the Southampton Arms. An old man at the piano played music that Louis thinks might have last been heard during the war, an open fire, three dogs, and the scent of mulled cider drifted from the bar. In short it was the most perfect bar Louis could’ve imagine after a day of walking around Hampstead in the cold.

They ordered tankards of cider and some food to nibble on, before negotiating the narrow bar out into the garden where they huddled under heaters and a couple of soft blankets Liam produced from his backpack. There was a group at the next table, three girls and a boy with a guitar case, and their groups slowly mingled, Harry and Zayn making up backstories about themselves that became increasingly more ridiculous as the night wore on.

Two of the girls were teachers, and both seemed to be called Faye which seemed unlikely. Louis was sure they were fucking with them. Liam quickly fell into conversation about his work in the department for education, as the others struck up conversation about music. It seemed that in the past five years Harry had developed an appreciation of Hip Hop and Zayn’s knowledge was encyclopedic. Louis happily sat back and smoked as he listened to the different voices and smiled at his friends. It’s so easy is the thing. As soon as Harry made a promise they had fallen back into each other like it was the most natural thing in the world. Louis can feel the difference in himself; knows the others see it too. All the anger he had carried around for years had dissipated, only returning for brief moments when he doubts himself, doubts how simple it all has been.

When they finally get home they are tipsy, Harry and Louis wrapped up in each other for the entire overground journey and the walk from the station. It’s all soft giggles and touches as they fall into bed, cocooned against the world under the fluffy duvet.

\---

Louis awoke to muffled conversation. Harry was on the phone. His tone tense, upset, and Louis wanted to wrap his arms around him and make it all ok. Harry’s body language threw him off though, turned away from Louis on the side of the bed, muscles taut and strained. His arms crossed in front of his chest, and what Louis could see of his face is blank and scares Louis slightly.

“I can’t fucking believe you let this happen, Ben.” Harry hissed into the phone, voice low, clearly not wanting to wake Louis.

“No. No. You listen. I told you. I told you weeks ago. Oh fuck off. I told you, I want to come out soon. No. Ben, wait. You’ll fix this or I will.” Harry jabbed angrily at the phone to hang up the call, letting out a long breath through his nose, before he turned back to Louis, eyes widening when he saw him awake.

“Oh, hi Louis.” His body language was still closed but now he’s curling in on himself, looking close to tears.

“Love, what’s happened?” Louis asked softly, could hear the wariness in his voice. He reached out, tried to touch Harry, but the other boy flinched away. Louis’ face scrunched up in concern, desperately needing to help but worried that anything he says is going to set Harry off crying.

“The fucking Sun. And my fucking team. It’s all gone wrong. It’s not my fault Lou, please know that?” Harry rambled, eyes wide and pleading, brimming with moisture.

“Babe, I believe you, but I still don’t know what’s wrong, not really.” He tried to keep his voice neutral, calm, reassuring, but he could feel his own panic sneaking in. The mention of The Sun makes it sound like this could be something serious.

“I’m sorry.” Harry whispered again before bolting from the room. It’s only then that Louis notices that the other boy had been fully dressed, and before he has a chance to respond the front door is slamming shut.

Louis was in shock, sitting on the bed in silence, not quite believing that Harry had gone. He stayed there for a long time, half expecting Harry to ring the doorbell, to come home and explain what the hell just happened. Finally he moved, making his way to the kitchen to boil water for his tea.

There he found Harry’s ipad, left behind in his haste to escape Louis. He knew the password, Harry’s goddaughter’s birthday, and he flicked it open to see if there are any clues as to why Harry bolted so fast. His emails were still open, a scan of tomorrow’s front page there as well as an attachment from his press team. The email was from Ben Winston, who he assumed was the man Harry had been angry with earlier.

**THE BRAVE MPs AGAINST GAY MARRIAGE ACT**

The headline was stark, lacking the Sun’s usual penchant for a pun but maybe this was too life ruining for even them to joke about. Under the headline were the photos of nine high profile opponents to the Act, one’s Louis recognised from weekly crisis meetings at work. The tenth photo was Harry. Louis’ heart broke right there in his kitchen.

\---

Liam found him curled into a ball against the kitchen cabinets about two hours later.

Louis hadn’t cried, had barely moved. He was just in shock at how quickly the rug had been pulled from under him. Last night everything had been perfect, and now his boyfriend was going to be in the papers as openly being against the Act that Louis devoted almost every hour of his days to.

Liam didn’t talk, just busied himself putting the kettle on, getting out mugs and milk, before finally sitting down beside Louis with two mugs of steaming tea in his hands.

“Do you want to talk?” Liam handed him a mug, blowing on his own to cool it as he looked at Louis.

“Not really. What is there to say? He just left. He said he wouldn’t and then he left anyway. I’m a fucking idiot for believing him.” Louis’ voice was flat, emotionless, cold like he felt in that moment.

“Lou,” Liam’s tone was soft and pleading. “He cares. He was a mess by the time he got home. Tried to turn right round and come back here for you. I persuaded him to let me talk to you first.”

Louis just looked at Liam over his tea, not quite trusting himself to talk.

“He’s trying to stop publication. He’s off to crisis talks with his team all day. It might not even happen.” Liam continued. Louis knew it would happen though. He knew Harry didn’t have the power yet in his position as MP to stop it.

“And if it goes to press?” Louis pushed, voice still robotic.

“I don’t know Lou.” Liam sighed, deflating in front of Louis. “Then we deal with it. You deal with it. Together.”

“Together.” Louis snorted. “And yet here I am, sitting on my kitchen floor in my fucking pants, and he’s not here.”

With that Louis pushed himself off the floor and retreated to his bedroom. He curled into the smell of Harry and heartbreak and fell asleep, waking only when Liam delivered fresh tea and toast.

\---

Monday morning dawned to the news being published. Front page of The Sun, Harry’s face splashed everywhere proclaiming him a homophobic arsehole. Louis was in the office early, Nick making him extra strong builders tea as soon as he clapped eyes on Louis’ tired face. There were meetings galore to discuss how they could tackle the damage the article had done. Ten high profile MPs, five of them from their own party, one of them young and extremely popular, coming out against the Act. It was painful to their cause to say the least.

Louis couldn’t even concentrate. How was he meant to mitigate the disaster the article had been for their Act when he couldn’t even start to deal with the disaster it had been for him personally. He kept drifting back to Harry’s face yesterday just before he had left, to the hundreds of unanswered texts he had sent Louis since, begging for another chance. Louis didn’t even know if he wasn’t giving Harry a chance, he just knew that when things had got shit Harry had run.

“Lou, are you with us?” His boss was speaking, drawing him from thoughts of sad green eyes and his empty bed.

“Mmm, sorry. Just thinking about what we can do.” Louis lied, trying to cover himself.

“You get on well with Styles, I thought? People said he was drinking with your crew at the conference. What’s your take?” Louis almost cried at the question, complicated as it was, and yet so simple.

“I’m as lost as you are, James. He’s not homophobic. I thought he was on our side.” Louis tried to lighten his tone from morbidly morose, but it fell short of his normal self. James quirked an eyebrow at him, questioning. Louis just shrugged.

“D’you think you could talk to him?” James pushed, causing Louis to break and laugh out loud.

“I really don’t know. I’ll try.” He pushed up from the table they were sat round, feeling for cigarettes in his pocket, and headed outside.

Two minutes into a smoke, he was scrolling the multitude of texts from Harry trying to make sense of it all. He was no closer to clarity when a new one came in:

**BBC News in ten. I’m sorry. Forgive me for this.**

Louis quickly stubbed out his cigarette, rushing inside to make sure the flatscreens in the office were tuned to the right channel. He shouted for his boss and co-workers, letting them know it seemed Harry was about to make a statement.

The minutes ticked down, each one causing Louis to bite another nail to the quick. What on earth was Harry going to do?

Finally, the presenter appeared on the lawn opposite Westminster, umbrella held over her by hands unseen against the torrential downpour.

“Thank you. You join me here to talk to one of the MPs singled out in today’s headline news about the Equal Marriage Act.” The reporter looked as confused as Louis felt about why they were there.

“Mr Styles, thank you for joining us... or for inviting us to join you, I should say. I believe you have a statement?” The camera panned over to Harry who was stood beside her, nervously chewing his lip, resplendent in a charcoal suit and red tie.

“I do. Thank you, Allegra. There was an article written in The Sun today alleging that I won’t be supporting the Equal Marriage Act. I need to clarify that position as I will, in fact, be supporting it. I’m not sure where the story came from, but I have my suspicions.”

“In fact,” Harry took a deep breath, looking to Louis like he was steeling himself for something painful, “I have fired my PR advisers as of this morning over this report, which may seem extreme.” The reporter was nodding, still seeming highly confused. Louis had a whole swarm of butterflies in his stomach, tension rolling off him at how this was progressing.

“You see, I have received some bad advice, and after a discussion with party leadership this morning, I have decided it is time for a fresh and more honest start.” Another deep breath before his eyes looked down the camera, meeting Louis’ without even knowing. The look on Harry’s face was one Louis knew well, a private look Harry usually shared only with him. It was determined and full of love, like he was actually talking to Louis alone. In some ways Louis supposed he was.

“I am gay.” The reporter gasped before schooling her sharp features into something more neutral, though Louis could see the excitement of this exclusive dancing behind her eyes.

“I have known this all my life, but have been told repeatedly that to be elected I needed to be presented as straight. I now don’t believe that to be true, and I know I have the full support of party leadership behind me at this time. I hope my constituents and the general public see me for the good MP I have been and will continue to be, rather than judge me on who I have fallen in love with.”

There was more, the interviewer asking questions that Harry looked to be nervously answering. Louis wasn’t sure what was being said, however. The static white noise in his head drowned out all other noise, and if it hadn’t, the cheers he was vaguely aware of his team giving would have done the job just as well.

Louis suddenly found himself outside, running down a side street onto Whitehall. He didn’t have a jacket or a coat on, the cold wind and rain cutting through his thin shirt in seconds, but he didn’t care. His feet carried him round tourists and locals, closer and closer to Westminster. He was vaguely aware of Nick shouting behind him, but not of the content of his words. His phone was vibrating nearly constantly in his pocket.

When he got to parliament square it was chaos. Traffic was at a standstill as multiple news trucks parked haphazardly in the middle of the street to try to get to Harry. There was a crowd surrounding him ten people deep, and try as he might Louis couldn’t force his way through. Instead, he turned on his heel and headed for the tube, pausing only to send one solitary text to Harry.

_Your place. ASAP x_

On the tube he sat in shock, his hair dripping into his lap, shivering as he became aware of just how under dressed he was. People around him were giving him strange looks, but Louis was in his own world. A world where Harry had finally come out, without warning, and in doing so had publicly supported everything Louis worked for. He didn’t know whether he would punch Harry or kiss him when they were reunited.

Finally he arrived in Hampstead, cutting down side streets through the rain to get to the small flat in a mews house that Harry and Zayn shared. He hoped to every god he had ever heard of that Zayn would be in to answer the door, not expecting Harry to have been able to get away from the media scrum just yet.

The gods weren’t listening, however. The house was empty, no answer when he leaned on the bell. Just as he sat down on the step the first pap arrived, curiously eyeing him from a distance. Louis was sure there would be photos of him online soon, wet and bedraggled, eyes probably wide with a mixture of hope and fear. He didn’t care though. Nothing mattered other than seeing Harry.

His phone buzzed again.

**Where r u? Did u c?**

Liam and his awful text speak.

_Of course I saw. I couldn’t get to him. gone to his to wait. There are paps arriving. What do I do Li?_

**Wait. I’ll call Z. 1 of us will be there soon. x**

Liam’s answer was almost instant and Louis sighed out in relief. If Harry couldn’t be here then at least he wouldn’t have to wait in full view of the media. There were five paps now, and an ITN news van had just pulled into the mews. It was still pouring with rain. The press were gathered under huge golf umbrellas but of course none of them offered one to him. It made him think of wildlife documentary makers who refused to intervene even when an animal was about to get killed. Of course the paparazzi were the jackals in this situation though, so his metaphor fell flat somewhat.

**Harry’s in a cab with Z. not long now. x**

Louis thanked the gods who hadn’t listened earlier for sending Liam into his life. He wasn’t sure what kind of a mess he would be right now without him.

By the time Harry’s cab pulled into the street it was crowded with paps. Louis had overheard them saying that another MP had dragged Harry into a cab right out of the media scrum, hollering their address to the driver at the top of his lungs. Louis only had eyes for the figure climbing out of the car though, long legs clad in his suit, brogues splashing into a puddle that he seemed to not even notice. Their eyes locked and the gaze never wavered as Harry made his way through the throng, ignoring the shouted questions, flashes, and microphones that were being shoved in his face.

Too soon Harry was right in front of Louis, arms by his sides, looking unsure and nervous. Louis hadn’t worked out what he was going to say, if there was even anything to say. Despite all the time he had been waiting, all this time being photographed and scrutinised as if he was an animal in a zoo, he still didn’t know how to respond to Harry.

“I’m sorry.” Harry whispered, too low for the scrum to catch it. It was all Louis had needed apparently, the urge to reassure and kiss Harry suddenly overwhelming.

“So you should be, you fucker. Can’t believe you just did that. We need to talk, but not here. Also I need to kiss...” Harry cut him off, surging forward to catch Louis’ mouth in a sweet kiss that caused uproar around them. Louis barely registered it. He was in a bubble of Harry and only Harry.

Zayn coughed beside them, opening the door to the flat and trying to usher them in.

“Come on you pair, you’ve given everyone quite enough of a show for today.” He hissed, trying to hold an umbrella awkwardly over the three of them as he simultaneously failed to block the view of the cameras.

They broke apart, foreheads touching for just a second before they had to move.

“I love you.” Louis whispered.

“I love you too.”

\---

Just under a year had passed since Harry had dramatically come out on national TV. The scandal had died down quickly; tomorrow’s chip paper as Louis’ mum had called it. Harry’s family had been less supportive. His mum had cried, profusely apologetic for any hurt she had caused Harry. His father had disowned him. Harry had been ok.

Nine months ago Harry had moved in with Louis. It had been the start of February and the ground had been covered with a light smattering of snow, so unlike London. Liam had moved in with Zayn, an arrangement Louis tended to think he had lost out in, seeing Liam had been able to move to Hampstead when Louis was stuck in Clapton. It had been Liam’s desire to live in Clapton in the first place. Harry’s things had merged so easily with Louis’. The painting they had bought together at twenty was back in it’s rightful place over the mantlepiece, Harry’s favourite mug beside Louis’ in the cupboard, Twinings Earl Grey beside Yorkshire tea on the counter.

Seven months ago the House of Commons voted on the Equal Marriage Act, passing it with a majority of 142 votes. Harry, Louis, Liam, Zayn and Niall had climbed to the top of Parliament Hill again and popped champagne, all five of them drinking straight from the bottle as Harry etched words into the cork so they could remember the moment; “ _Love is a human right. 5.3.16_ ”. Louis in turn had cut a slit into the bottom of the cork and placed a five pence coin there, a tradition his father had been doing for every celebration since Louis was born. The cork sat on the mantlepiece below their painting, in a bowl waiting to be filled with more memories.

Five months ago the Equal Marriage Act had been voted through the House of Lords, giving them an official date for when it would become law. Louis had booked the registry office before they even had the official confirmation.

Five months ago Louis had also proposed. It was the anniversary of the day Harry had been elected. He had got down on one knee on the terrace at Parliament, in the same spot where he had been standing when Zayn had dragged Harry back into his life. The ring was simple, a white gold band with ‘ _It’s never too late_ ’ engraved on the inside. He’d spoken pretty words about love and fate, about meant-to-be’s and finding Harry no matter where life took them. Harry had cried. Photos had made it onto the front of the Independent and the Guardian. Another champagne cork had joined the bowl; “ _Always in my heart, 8.5.16_ ”

Three months ago they had adopted a cat, with Harry calling it a dry run for another kind of adoption soon. He was a grumpy old rescue from Battersea dogs and cats home. His name was  Arthur, which they both agreed suited him well. Another champagne cork joined the bowl; “ _Family, 12.7.16_ ”

One month ago they had gone on holiday to the Lake District with their friends for the most sedate stag do they could manage with Niall as one of the three best men. They stayed in the same hotel that Harry and Louis had visited the year before, sinking pints in the local pub and doing watersports at the YMCA centre all weekend. There had been more champagne, another cork joined the bowl; “ _You make me strong, 3.9.16_ ”

Last night, Louis had fucked Harry for the last time as a single man, teasing him and marking him as his own. They had come together, muttering ‘mine’ and ‘always’ into each other's ears. Harry had looked at him like he had hung the stars, whining ‘Daddy’ over and over with every sweet touch. Louis’ heart had hurt at the sight of him, so full of love.

Twenty minutes ago gay marriage had officially become law. Louis and Harry had been the first ones to be married in the Chelsea registry office. Harry had insisted on the venue after he found out that not only did his idol, Mick Jagger, marry one of his many wives there, but that you were given a personalised bottle of champagne as part of the package. It seemed like fate.

They had been joined by Louis’ family, Harry’s mum, their boys, and a few select friends from Parliament. They hadn’t intended on inviting nearly as many people to the ceremony, but Nick had demanded work friends could come after pouting that Louis had hidden the whole thing from him for so long. Harry had happily agreed.

Five minutes ago they had been declared husbands. Harry had been stunning in a YSL suit that had been donated to him for the occasion. Louis wore Dior. Apparently the marriage of a gay MP on the first day it was legal was a big enough deal to score some freebies.

Louis still couldn’t believe his luck. He was married to the best person he had ever met, to his best friend. They had promised to stay together through thick and thin, through good times and bad, always. There had been tears at both of their vows; Louis promising to always look after Harry, to always make the tea, and to always be his big spoon. Harry had promised to always strive to make Louis smile his crinkly-eyed smile every day, to never make the tea, and to always be the little spoon, even when they were apart. As they were declared married, Harry had leaned in and whispered to Louis that he would always be his good boy, Louis replying that he would always be Daddy when Harry wanted him to be.

Three minutes ago they had been handed their personalised champagne. “ _On the occasion of the marriage of Mr Louis William Tomlinson and Mr Harry Edward Styles, 23.10.16_ ”

Two minutes ago Harry had popped the cork and they had toasted each other straight from the bottle, much to the chagrin of their mothers and amusement of their friends.

One minute ago Harry had taken a pen and inscribed the cork; “ _Tied up like two ships, 23.10.16_ ”. Louis had slipped it into his pocket, ready to add it to their bowl when they made it home from the reception.

Now all that was left to do was walk out the front doors onto the Kings Road. There were news vans and paparazzi waiting for them, but Louis knew nothing could ruin their day. Harry would make a speech and Louis would stand beside him proudly. They would be all over the lunchtime news, along with all the other same sex couples who could marry today. The thought made Louis grin.

Slipping his hand into Harry’s he squeezed. The doors opened and they walked out into a blaze of flashing lights. He smiled, squeezed Harry’s hand one more time, and together they stepped forwards.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come talk to me on [tumblr](http://conscious--ramblings.tumblr.com), kudos and comments make my heart sing.
> 
> Here is the original prompt
> 
> Harry is a young, idealistic politician serving his first term in office. Louis is a union rep or a lobbyist of some sort who Harry knows and likes and perhaps even is friends with (maybe they grew up together, maybe they used to work together, maybe they've just run into each through friends of friends idc). Harry agrees with Louis' cause, but finds it's only one of many factors he has to balance when making decisions. Naturally, this pisses Louis off and they fight and also have sex.


End file.
